Ivan's grip tightened around the hilt of Azthor, slowly drawing the sword from its sheath as the approaching figures drew nearer. Though their levels posed no apparent threat to Ivan, he remained prepared for a confrontation, unwilling to let his guard down.
"Relax, they're with me," Lorson's voice carried a reassuring tone, sensing the tension radiating from Ivan.
With a resigned exhale, Ivan re-sheathed his newly acquired sword.
"Wow, you guys were waiting for me? I'm touched," Lorson remarked with a hint of sarcasm.
"We literally just arrived," a woman with short black hair and glasses retorted. Her companion, a man with neatly tied dreads, stood beside her.
"Late as usual," Lorson mused.
"We couldn't come earlier. This area was infested with Asher Guild members until a few days ago," the man with dreads explained.
"Really? Why?" Lorson inquired.
