In an underground facility in the Martial Union settlement sat a lonesome figure. He sat on the ground with folded legs and his arms resting on his knees.
He had donned his combat attire, as opposed to the formal attire that he had grown accustomed to wearing in the past three months.
His black hair was unkempt, an increasingly rare sight to see due to his position.
His visage was hardly strange or unusual, yet almost everyone standing in the room as him would be paralyzed with primal fear. The fear that came from a great threat to one's well-being and life.
Not only had Rui donned his strongest mind mask as usual, but his mind which had been consumed with the diplomatic mission for more than three months had entered a state it hadn't in recent times.
