"Speak, child."
Despite being attacked, Giralda's face showed not a hint of anger.
"What is your name? Why did you attack me, a passerby?"
He was merely toying with the spoils of war in his hand, kindly asking, "Who sent you here?"
His face still bore a gentle and calm smile, but rather than warming the heart, it only served to chill one to the bone.
The werewolf girl with her hands tied behind her back, cowering and kneeling before Annan, couldn't help but show a look of fear at just a glance from Annan.
She surely knew of the existence of Transcendents.
Or more accurately… when she decided to embark on this path, she had already prepared herself for the possibility of dying at the hands of a Transcendent someday.
But having this expectation didn't mean she would directly challenge the dignity of a Transcendent.
"Why, why…"
Although Annan had asked her, the werewolf girl had already lost the rationality to answer this question.
She hadn't seen the so-called "carrier".
