Abrio looked toward the door that was making noise and made a gesture.
The two Underworld Spiders crawled up to the ceiling of the hall and lay in ambush.
The Undead Guardian moved forward, dragging its damaged greatsword as it faced the door.
The Gray Souls spread out behind the Undead Guardian, forming a line.
Abrio stood at the very back, calmly watching the door while stroking a brass badge hanging from his chest.
The door kept pounding.
A moment later.
The sounds stopped.
Then the door slowly opened.
Beyond it lay deep, dense darkness. It wriggled as if it were alive, and then a figure stepped out from within.
He was a man with disheveled hair, dressed in a dark golden robe.
His face was gaunt, like that of a dried corpse, and a thick, pitch-black aura radiated from his entire body.
There were no pupils in his eyes, only a grayish white that overflowed with malice.
"What time is it now?"
The man spoke in a buzzing voice, using the language of the Southern Continent.
Abrio seemed to have studied the Southern Continent's language and answered in the same tongue, "It is the autumn of 1351."
The man fell silent.
Only then did he say, "It is already 1351? Time truly passes quickly."
"Autumn... autumn is such a melancholy season."
"It is the season when life is granted one final, brilliant bloom."
"After that, all things will welcome winter."
Abrio gave a chuckle. "So you are a Poet as well."
"How should I address you? Mr. Delin?"
The man raised his head. "You have read my autobiography?"
"That's right. I am Delin."
"Since you know my name, you should know what I am."
"For the sake of awakening me, I can allow you to serve me while retaining