Swoosh!
Fourteen figures descended from the sky and stood before Layland. All of them were clothed in one-pieced tunics that extended to their ankles. They dressed simply but their demeanour was regal. Each of them possessed a fearsome aura. Their presence was profoundly incomprehensible, similar to those who had lived in this world for a long time.
The man in the middle of the row, the one with cream-coloured hair, turned around. His stern and aged face met Layland's unmasked face. His sharp eyes stared into Layland's eyes as if they wanted to pierce Layland's soul. One would simply quiver and die given the glare, but Layland dared to quirk an eyebrow. He didn't even feel pressured.
"What kind of problem you have brought us into, boy?" the old man spoke.
"I am just reminding you the enemy you ran away from is still alive. I didn't bring you into a problem. This is the problem that—"
