The warmth of the bathwater had done little to calm the turmoil in my mind. I stepped out, the cool air of my room sent chills down my body. Grabbing a thick, plush towel, I began to dry my hair, the friction served as a small distraction from the relentless waves of my thoughts. Herald. His demands. His seamless power. His insistence that I become his disciple and him, my mentor.
I needed to tell him no. But how? How did you tell a centuries-old warrior, a man who could effortlessly shatter A-tier artifacts and casually erase guards from existence, that you didn't want to join his personal crusade? And how did you do it without sounding like you didn't trust him, without provoking him? It was a delicate move, one I felt utterly unprepared for.
