"Who—who was speaking?!"
Though he had been unable to pull himself free from confusion and grief, Ganatica's battle instincts, honed over more than a hundred thousand years of fighting on the Blood War battlefield of Hell, remained razor-sharp. The instant he noticed that strange voice suddenly appearing beside his ear, the boy who had been staring mournfully at the flower in his hand just a moment ago instinctively released his spiritual power again, sensing his surroundings and forcing himself to regain his composure as quickly as possible.
For a Legendary powerhouse, anything that suddenly appeared within one's senses could signify a dangerous conspiracy or a lethal attack. If Punk had encountered the same situation, the caster would probably have blasted out a Tide of Trailing Light without hesitation in mere moments.
Yet at this moment, the one standing in this shadowy alley was merely a wanderer lost in darkness.
Although he had found the source of the voice, his combat-ready tension failed to rouse his pessimistic heart. Though he swiftly turned to look at the sky-blue speck of light fluttering beside his ear, Ganatica was so emotionally hollow that he did not even think of gathering battle energy to attack or defend himself.
What was there to care about? Whether his suspicious and mysterious "master" had sent a servant to deliver a message, or whether an enemy had silently approached him, what meaning did any of that turmoil hold?
If he could attain release, even salvation, through one magnificent ambush assassination, would that not be a fine destination for a homeless traveler steeped in despair?
With that thought, the disheartened boy suddenly had no desire even to move his body or send a signal to Whisper of Destruction in the distant magic tower. He simply ignored the strange light speck