A few days later.
A handsome black-haired elf man sat on top of a huge pile of dead bugs, and even though the entire room was covered in a foul stench, the man didn't seem to mind it, as if he had gotten used to it.
He was covered in dried-up purple blood from top to bottom; his clothes were in tatters; and there were a lot of new cut scars on his already scar-filled body; his left arm up to his shoulder had turned into some kind of black-dyed, robot prosthetic arm. He had blood trickling down from the corners of his lips, and his bright orange eyes were gazing at everything in a cold, indifferent, and calculative manner, but even though he was in tatters, there wasn't a single change in his face, which remained stoic, as his very presence indicated that he was dangerous.
[Level 7 (7490/12000)]
