A chunk of Adam's mask was sliced clean off, exposing the left side of his charred jaw.
In the dark of night, not many people could see his appearance, but the one standing right in front of him, the handsome swordsman in white robes, was able to see it clearly.
He couldn't help but grimace ever so slightly. The swordsman's gaze then shifted to Adam's exposed hands, his frown deepening.
"Were you born like that?" He spoke in Acaros. "Or did some sick man put you through torture?"
Adam completely ignored what the swordsman said, his lips slowly curling into a wide grin.
He first scanned his surroundings and noticed that close to a dozen Magi had already perished, their corpses still ablaze from the flames of his blades.
As for the rest of the ninety-or-so Magi, they all had terrified looks on their faces—including the Mana Vortex Magi. They all surrounded him, but none dared to attack. They were all gripped by dread.
