Bathed in such remarkable prestige, it was an inevitable consequence that people beheld Limon with a profound sense of awe and reverence.
As Limon made his way through the throng, the mercenaries, as if compelled by an unseen force, would hastily disperse, carving out a clear and unobstructed path for his passage.
"Sir, sir, over yonder..."
Scarcely had he walked a short distance when a stentorian shout pierced through the din of the crowd, reaching Limon's ears.
It was Theresa. She and a cluster of mercenaries were positioned conspicuously within the teeming mass up ahead.
Limon, ever the advocate of discretion, was of the firm belief that maintaining a low profile was the quintessential path to tread. He harbored no inclination to advance to the forefront and court unwanted attention.
Navigating through the sea of people, Limon finally reached the side of Theresa, Jia, Celesna, and Qina.
"Sir..."
