The weathered face marked by the passage of time turned pale from the effective Curse, with a flush of excitement beneath the cheekbones.
His eyes stared blankly, and his lips moved as if chanting silent words.
With trembling hands, he carefully lifted the oval Metal Block from the muddy ground, treating it as if the most precious treasure in the world rested in his palms.
"Whoosh!"
A sudden whistling sound pierced the air, shattering the near-religious devotion he had exuded.
The battle instincts honed from years of adventuring made him instinctively tilt his head to the side.
An arrow, tipped with a white feather and spinning rapidly, whizzed past, barely grazing his nose.
Clenching tightly onto the treasure, Lawson abruptly turned to glare with murderous intent at the silver-haired Half Elf at the end of the squad, still poised in his bow-drawing stance.
