Hiding in the shadows, Dezhong and his Shadow Clone, Dark Prince, looked at Luke with pitiful eyes. The young man's demeanour had changed compared to the last time they had seen him.
Luke sat still on his bed, staring into the distance with a long, lost gaze. He was pale and slightly thinner than he had been before. Worst of all, his face was wrinkled due to the constant frowning he had been doing.
It seemed he had been at it for a while, given how his face had lots of premature wrinkles developing around his eyes, nose, and mouth. He looked horrible and downright miserable.
'Poor Luke.' Dezhong sighed and then slowly peered from his shadow while partially transforming his vocal cords to alter his voice.
"Luke Blaise," he spoke, his altered voice startling the young man. Luke shot up from his bed and drew out a makeshift knife made from an awkwardly curved piece of metal with loose cloth wrapped around it, acting as its handle.
