"What the fucking fuck, kid?" Percival instinctively reached for his Sword Case before forcing his hand to drop.
Dared didn't even flinch at the curse. He just stood there in the muddy alleyway, the massive Swamp God Dragon egg clutched tightly against his chest, a grin wide enough to split his dirt-smudged face.
"You were glowing!" Dared whispered loudly, looking at Percival as if he were a god who had just descended from the heavens.
"Like, actual blue fire was leaking out of your eyes for a second! Are you a high-tier Arcanist? But Arcanists don't use swords. Hmm.. Swordsmen don't use magic like that either. What was that?!"
Percival pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a long, ragged breath. He had just formed a Soul Contract with an ancient A-Rank beast, and he was being accosted by a fourteen-year-old fanboy.
