"Ian... wait, you're hurt?!"
As the newcomer entered, Elder Prude was shocked and attempted to stand up—only to remember that Elan, who had just woken up, was still in his arms, which is why he did not actually do so.
"Still alive."
The youth said calmly, though he did not look well at the moment.
The white-haired youth who had just entered was soaked by the downpour, with numerous holes in the sleeves and trouser legs. He was holding a black longsword in his right hand, and there was blood trickling down beneath his shirt at his chest, sticking to his skin.
Ian's long hair was not tied up as it usually was but hung loose, clinging to his cheeks and neck. His bright pupils were somewhat dim, a clear sign of the aftereffects from overusing Spirit Energy.
However, compared to his disheveled appearance, his demeanor was quite calm. Meanwhile, two guards of the White Folks also arrived at the doorway. They seemed confused and were about to seek Elder Prude's instructions.
