Watching Darian walk away, Ivaim let out a low sigh and shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Well, that went... great," he muttered under his breath, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "What am I even doing?"
He glanced at the empty street ahead and then at the glowing system notification hovering faintly in the corner of his vision.
[Believer Count: 47]
His smirk faded as he stared at the number.
'Only 47. That's barely a drop in the bucket compared to what I need.'
Ivaim crossed his arms, leaning against a lamppost as his thoughts spiraled.
'I already know I don't stand a chance against the Master of Cruelty. At best, I'd be able to scurry around like a pesky rat for ten seconds before getting flattened... maybe fifteen if I'm lucky—I mean, even luckier.'
He chuckled dryly at his own expense, shaking his head again.
"Who am I kidding? Even a rat knows when to stay in its hole."
But then his eyes flicked back to the notification, the number taunting him.
