"W—Wait! Please, don't kill us!"
The three men were unremarkable. They sported typical Sethian features: copper skin, dark hair, and light-colored eyes. Their inner flow was dull and slow, too different from the storm that raged inside Meilyr whenever he used magecraft.
10th-class magi? Either untrained or lacking potential. It seems talent plays a role in how powerful one's internal flow is. That's valuable knowledge.
Despite pitying their weakness, Meilyr refused to openly treat them with contempt. He knew far too well the pain of getting looked down on and the scars of such humiliation. Furthermore, antagonizing people for no reason was more trouble than it could be worth.
"I won't kill you," he said, his tone low. "But don't mistake this for mercy. There are things worse than death."
