As Julian walked the familiar path toward the Florence's main household, a rare sense of nostalgia settled over him.
Six months in Elandria had felt like an eternity, and now, returning to these grounds seemed almost surreal.
Ten years of relentless missions had kept him away, transitioning from one task to the next with hardly a moment's respite.
His life consisted mostly of camps under harsh skies or cramped rooms in bustling inns, and now he found himself once again amidst the towering walls that signified home.
He moved through the side gate without resistance, his presence unsurprisingly unnoticed yet somehow comforting.
But just as he began to settle into the familiarity, an abrupt chill prickled at his senses—a killing intent aimed squarely at him.
"…?"
With practiced calm, Julian shifted his stance. A figure dropped from above, swinging a massive great sword in an arc meant to cleave him in two.
CLANG!
