Perhaps knowing he couldn't get the answer he wanted from Leon, the youth didn't wait for one. He turned and ran out of his hiding spot.
One hour later, at a slum at the bottom of the mountain, Leon finally met the man behind the youth.
It was an old man with a black cloth wrapped around his eyes.
Leon couldn't 'see' any trace of magic circulation about him, nor sense any powerful mental flux. Yet for some reason, a sense of respect surged within his heart when he saw him.
A sage? A diviner? Or a prophet?
This blindfolded old man lived in a small and tiny grass shack.
Leon had seen numerous odd characters in the nearby alleys on his way here. These people looked exactly like that youth that led him here. There was nothing remarkable about them on the surface, but their weak bodies always hid a powerful, volatile-yet-suppressed strength.
