"How much longer do we have to keep pretending to be sick?"
Teresa lay on the pristine white bed in the Archangel's infirmary, her exquisite, beautiful face practically screaming the word "bored."
She had never been the type to sit still. Lying around resting like this was worse than torture for her.
"Probably another day or two. No matter what, we have to act like normal people. Otherwise, once our true strength is exposed, the whole world might see us as enemies. I think the treatment of Coordinators, who are rejected across the entire Earth, already proves that well enough." Allen leaned against the wall and answered casually.
Clearly, their abnormally high body temperatures were both something they had deliberately controlled.
In fact, let alone a temperature of less than forty degrees Celsius, their bodies, strengthened countless times over, would not suffer the slightest damage even at several thousand or tens of thousands of degrees.
The reason they had to pretend to be feverish and weak was mainly because, during their solo descent through the atmosphere, the temperature inside the cockpit had briefly risen to around 120 to 200 degrees Celsius.
Even Coordinators would inevitably suffer severe adverse reactions in such a harsh environment, perhaps even fainting or dying suddenly.
To be honest, Allen had always been curious about how the elite Coordinators of this world managed to descend from outer space to the ground while enduring temperatures of one or two hundred degrees Celsius without any water replenishment at all.
You must know, simply surviving was not enough. They also had to remain conscious and restart the engines before colliding with the ground, or they would smash into it and be reduced to pieces.
Teresa sighed helplessly. "Sigh, fine. Sometimes I really don't understand you. You clearly possess the