Undercurrents Stirring

Bernal calmly looked at Dago, a faint trace of reminiscence on his face.

He, too, had taken Solomon's Caress. He knew very well just how unbearable the pain brought by that potion was.

Back when he had endured that pain, he had desperately wished countless times for someone to kill him immediately and grant him release.

He did not know how he had endured it. If he had not possessed a will that not even death could shake, he might truly have been killed by the pain.

As he thought this, Bernal frowned. He saw that fine beads of blood had begun to seep from the surface of Dago's bloodshot eyes, about to form bloody tears.

Clearly, the pain was nearing Dago's limit. Bernal checked the time and pondered briefly. Feeling that the potion's effects had nearly fully taken hold, he turned toward his potion workbench.

Amid the cluttered potion workbench sat a conspicuous, jewel-orange vial. It was the pain-blocking potion he had specially prepared.

Yet Bernal had only just picked up the potion and turned around when he suddenly discovered that Dago, who had been writhing on the floor in agony moments ago, had somehow risen to his feet, standing perfectly straight with his spine erect like a sharp sword thrust deep into the earth.

Dago was looking at Bernal. His black hair was utterly drenched in sweat, hanging messily against his cheeks. His eyes had regained their clarity, while blood flowing beneath those crimson eyes formed two streaks down his face, proving that the pain he had endured was no illusion.

He let out a soft breath, smiled at Bannigo, and slowly said, "I told you I'm good at dealing with all kinds of pain. I've got plenty of combat experience. Old Bernal, please keep helping me brew