"Mist?"
As they watched the wisps of mist surging outside the window behind Roger, everyone quietly pondered the implicit meaning hidden behind the word.
"Does it represent the place he comes from, or the origin of his power?"
No one met each other's gaze, and it was clear no one knew what the others were thinking.
"I am The Faceless."
The woman sitting opposite Roger spoke.
"I am Black Soul."
This was the man in the black robe.
"Paladin."
The speaker was a burly man with a rough voice; Roger gave him a special glance—these Otherworldly Visitors were all as strange as they come.
It was rare to come across one who seemed to walk in the light.
"Ha ha, Mr. Mist, don't be misled by his name."
"Could someone please explain the rules here to me?"
Roger's gaze swept over the faces of the crowd as he observed everyone closely—so brazenly that it could be described as unabashed.
