Arthur didn't ride a horse; he ran all the way here.
With the robust physique of a fourth-level warrior, he indeed could do so, but his face was pale, and the blood light on his body flickered uncertainly, as if it could extinguish at any moment.
On his shoulder was none other than George.
Dylan wanted to come forward to check but was pushed back several steps by the blood light emanating from Arthur.
"Hei, Heine!" Arthur bellowed in a muffled voice.
Perhaps because the toxins in his body hadn't been fully expelled, his mouth was askew and his speech was not clear.
This resembled the neurotic students from Bone Burial Ground that were plagued by dead energy.
Heine immediately stepped forward.
"I'm here."
"Give, give this to you!"
Arthur fumbled a crumpled letter from his person.
Then he stared fixedly at Heine, and two streams of tears suddenly flowed down his fierce, contorted face.
"Save, save him!"
