Idriss turned his back on Seraphis and slid down, sitting on the cold floor, his back resting against the side of the medical pod.
Idriss stared at him for a long while, then let out a soft exhalation.
"You always looked untouchable… even now, frail, old, and weak... still, your expression is unchanged."
He spoke under his breath, his mind drifting back... to the night they first met.
They were about the same age as Levi's generation... around eighteen years old. He could still remember the air reeking of rot and blood in the depths of a Midnight Dominion nest that wasn't part of the CRS Platform.
He remembered the panic, the screams, the swarm that surrounded him and his party... back then, Seraphis wasn't a king, nor a noble.
Just another mercenary hired with a cold gaze and an aura of immense pride... Idriss hated him at the time, thinking that his pride was too overbearing, which made his ego too hard to deal with as the party's captain.
