The adventurer's body froze mid-step, and for a second, he found it difficult to breathe.
Then, with jerky, abrupt motion, he spun around, eyes wide, hand already halfway to the short blade at his back.
But what he saw stopped him cold.
Standing only a few meters away, arms crossed and expression unreadable, was a young man with straight brown hair and narrowed black eyes.
His silhouette wavered for a moment before fully solidifying, like smoke condensing into flesh.
'Harry Ainsworth…?' Dani thought, his pupils shrinking in confusion.
He hadn't sensed him at all. Not even a whisper of magic, no presence, no footsteps—nothing.
It was as if he'd materialized from the air itself.
Dani's hand hovered near the hilt of his blade, but he didn't draw it. His instincts screamed at him that if he so much as twitched the wrong way, he'd be dead before his fingers closed around the weapon.
"How… how long have you been standing there?" he finally asked, voice low.
