In front of Angel, there was a delicately arranged plate.
The plate contained a ball of mist.
The mist constantly changed, and through its shifting density, Angel could catch glimpses of various scenes now and then, sometimes a range of ethereal mountains, sometimes a palace guarded by a ring of peaks... At this moment, the thinner part of the mist outlined a beautiful girl on a swing.
To call such ever-changing mist a work of art would not be an overstatement.
Angel admired it in his mind, but without hesitation, he bowed his head and inhaled, and the mist rolled into his body.
Oddly enough, Angel thought that the mist would cause him to choke, but it did not. When he inhaled the mist, he suddenly felt a coolness that surged to his brain, as if he had been enlightened, breaking open all his stagnant and rigid thoughts.
"This is Wilesen's gaseous elf; it can keep one's thoughts clear for a long time,"
