Ethan extended his soul sense, sweeping through the area—yet he found nothing.
A deep unease settled in his chest.
Just as he considered retreating, the old man spoke again.
"Come closer."
His voice was calm, devoid of any anger.
Ethan had spent the last few minutes insulting him over and over, calling him an old bastard at every turn, yet the man hadn't so much as flinched.
It was as if he had no emotions. No independent thought. But the moment Lyla's name was mentioned, something had changed.
Was he really just a man? Or was he something else entirely?
Steeling himself, Ethan stepped forward.
His path led him toward a statue in the middle of the training grounds. As he moved closer, a figure came into view—an elderly man, seated on the ground.
But still, his soul sense detected nothing.
'What the hell…'
Ethan had never encountered anything like this before.
The old man wore simple, worn-out clothes. His hair and beard were completely white.
