Kallen opened his eyes, and Dikalost immediately opened his as well. The two angels, who had been held down separately, instantly calmed when their "master" awoke.
Wukongjia released his suppression, and Kallen took a step back. The holy angel and the fallen angel swiftly flew back to Dikalost, the former becoming his white cane and the latter his black hat.
He looked less like an adventurer than a discreet nobleman living on a suburban estate.
His eyes, however, were different colors: one gray, the other blue.
In this era, the greatest adventurers were actually all "tomb robbers," though they excavated tombs not in pursuit of wealth, but specifically to target divine miracles.
Over time, they either suffered pollution or simply transformed themselves into part of that pollution. Without a few modifications, they felt they lacked style.
As Puer put it, these were an adventurer's medals.
Dikalost spread his arms.
"My dear classmates, I missed you to death."
Neo teased, "Yes, you're already dead. You've been dead for a thousand years."
"Do you know how I spent those thousand years? I kept dreaming, and my dreams were full of you."
"Heh, I don't believe you."
Despite saying that, Neo still stepped forward and gave Dikalost a light embrace.
There was no fiery outpouring of affection, nor any uncontrolled release of emotion. Everyone remained calm and composed.
At its core, the bond between classmates and roommates was still remembrance of their own youthful days. It was their classmates they could not let go of-no, it was themselves.
"Phileas, I can feel the pure light aura flowing through you. How did you manage it? It's countless times more intense than what I felt in the ruins of Xiromango, the branch god of Light."
Neo said, "That's because my love for Light runs deep."