When Raphael saw that glimmer of dawnlike light, he immediately realized that this was the contact sent by the God of Combat.
More than half a month had passed since his conversation with the God of Combat's avatar. If no one had come soon, Raphael would have started wondering whether the God of Combat had forgotten their conversation.
Raphael quickly composed himself, transformed into a Wraith, slipped out of his pajamas, and entered the shirt and trousers hanging in his wardrobe.
The next second, Raphael emerged from the wardrobe, now "dressed."
He paused at the door before slowly opening it.
Outside stood four men over six feet tall, with high noses and curly brown hair-the unmistakable facial features of Feysac people.
The visitor asked with a smile, "Raphael Collins?"
"Yes." Raphael smiled. "You're a god's envoy, aren't you?"
"The great God of Combat sent me," the man said. "My name is Daniel Payton."
Raphael pointed at the sofa in the sitting room outside. "Please, have a seat."
The two left the doorway and sat down in the sitting room.
Raphael spread his hands. "I think it would be best if no one knew about our meeting, so I won't wake the servants to make tea."
"Of course," Daniel said. "We only need a brief chat.
"Has there been any new progress on the matter that concerns the God of Combat?"
"Yes," Raphael said. "But before that, I hope we can establish a mutually beneficial arrangement. I provide the relevant intelligence, and you provide the corresponding compensation."
Daniel was taken aback. The God of Combat had indeed given instructions on this point: as long as Raphael's demands weren't excessive, they could keep purchasing intelligence from him.
In fact, he didn't know exactly what kind of intelligence he was supposed to buy