The old man almost stumbled.
He stopped abruptly, so abruptly that his feet carved deep grooves into the volcanic ground.
His face was pale.
Covered in sweat, not the sweat of exertion, but the cold sweat of fear.
For the first time since the beginning of the battle...
He looked like an ordinary old man. Frightened. Desperate. Broken.
"Wait!"
He raised both hands, a gesture of surrender.
The black spear, his most precious weapon, fell to the ground with a metallic clang.
"We can talk!"
"It was a misunderstanding!"
"I was wrong!"
"I shouldn't have attacked you!"
His voice trembled, not with calculated hesitation, but with genuine fear.
"Forgive me!"
"I can compensate you!"
"I have spirit stones, thousands of them, mid-grade!"
"Techniques, some rare ones that few people know!"
"Treasures, artifacts I have collected over decades!"
"I can give you everything!"
Kyrian simply watched him. In silence.
