"Can you do it?" Viscountess Maylar asked, holding her stare over the masked Syris.
It had been nearly a year since Laros had left. And despite sending droves of men into the Realm of Yarwin, no word had been found. They'd all either died to demons or killed by various hooded figures. She had seen the videos, and her gut wrenched the longer she watched.
The military was in chaos, scrambling armies to combat the dungeon they were struggling to judge, calling it a dungeon within the rank of A or B, possibly an S rank. They couldn't tell with all the fluctuation happening within the Realm. The realm laws were fractured, they'd said, and that most of the people sucked in would be crippled. But Laros was alive; she knew that much.
Syris did not motion a gesture as she stood beside the Reverend Mother, calm as a still lake. Calm and bored.
