Alone inside his personal Hall of the Sword, an old man sat drinking his favorite liquor, as he always did.
One bottle after another, his body absorbed an astonishing amount of alcohol each day.
It had long since become a habit—an addiction, even.
After all, the old man had found nothing better to occupy his time.
While Asterion was indulging in his catastrophic drinking routine, a soft knock echoed from the door leading into the hall.
When the drunken old man turned to look at his visitor, he found Ethan standing there, watching him with a faint half-smile.
"Oh? You finally came," Asterion said, taking another drink as Ethan made his way toward him.
Ethan glanced around the room.
Dozens of empty bottles were scattered around the old man.
"Look at this…" he said.
"How can you possibly drink this much in the middle of the day?"
He genuinely wondered how the old man was still alive.
Asterion simply gestured for him to sit.
