Nakula's disappearance didn't prompt an immediate response from Xerzan. Instead, the stronghold master sat amidst the Soul Refining Hall's ruins, staring at the debris of Weeping Soul's abode. An advocate of anti-conformity, lawlessness and hedonism, Xerzan had zero interest in kinship. As far as he was concerned, all ties were man-made constructs built on self-deceit. Thus, more than anyone else, he couldn't understand how and why he got so close to his fellow disciple.
"How…frustrating," Xerzan whispered. And if his deadbeat gaze revealed deep weariness, the intermittent flashes of foul energies ensured that no sane man would stay too close to the current him.
A deeply ingrained rage often needed handy outlets. But after 30 minutes of silent mopping, Xerzan still had nothing to vent his frustration on—nothing besides Weeping Soul's target.
