"Why did you attack me?" Yang Weite asked with difficulty.
As a necromancer, he had no usual weaknesses. His only weakness was the staff that housed his soul.
And that ghost had attacked his staff!
"Because I want this crystal ball, Nozdormu's Eye. I want to return to the past—not to when my parents gave birth to me, but to when I had just become the director of the Institute!" the ghost said fervently.
"Shaun?!" Old Popsicle looked at his son in utter despair.
Nora, on the other hand, was not as heartbroken, because the son in her heart had always been that little baby. She had not gone through the main quest of searching the Wasteland for her child.
In other words, she did not truly share a mother-son bond with this old man, Shaun. There was only a bond of blood between them.
"I'm sorry. Even if you are our parents, you still can't stop me," the ghost said, snatching away the staff and the crystal ball.
Yang Weite froze, then collapsed to the ground.
He looked sorrowfully at his benefactors' son.
He understood that Shaun was not a good person.
But he had been too focused on matters concerning his benefactors, so he had not been overly guarded.
And Shaun had long learned how to hide himself amid the Institute's complicated struggles.
"Wait, you can't return to that point in time! Your mother had already been killed by that damned Krogg back then!" Old Popsicle suddenly roared in fury.
Compared to his son, his feelings for his wife ran deeper. Not to mention that his wife had been shot dead by the hot-tempered Krogg while trying to save their son.
In truth, as long as they had handed the child over, Nora would not have died.
And