"Let me think... I was talking about... Right, the legacy! Yes, the legacy! That damned legacy."
As he spoke, Roronora's face twisted into a grim, fierce expression.
"I came for that damned legacy, but it's all a deception! No one can take that legacy; all who tried before me died! Not one survived; they all starved to death!"
"This place is a prison, meant to detain those half-orcs with unrest and defiance in their hearts! It's a trap left by humans to destroy the last hope of the Werewolves!"
"Wait!" Jelia interrupted Roronora.
"Since the beginning, you've been talking about a legacy, a deception, but what exactly is this legacy? Why can't anyone take it?"
"The legacy? Right! The legacy!"
Roronora staggered to his feet, supporting himself against the wall.
"You've been to the lake, so you must have seen them, the crystals on the ceiling of the underground cavern."
"I saw them," Jelia nodded.
