"I'll leave it to you, Grisha."
…
"We'll have to set up one more beacon and we'll be done with this region." A man in his early thirties sighed in relief, cracking his sore muscles as he complained, "Why do we have to put up with this useless work? We can just destroy our opponent."
"Well, if you can defeat Straxia, we'll all follow your command." A woman nearby commented, watching him snort in response as she took out a syringe-like instrument, "Anyway, let's talk less and finish our task."
She then glared at an old man that was floating in the air casually, using a massive leaf as a bed to sleep upon, basking in the sun. No mutated beast dared to approach him, even the mosquitoes. A glare from him, and they buzzed away.
"Sweetheart, don't glare at me so much. These pair of old bones cannot do much anyway." The old man smiled gently.
