A small frown appeared on Atticus' face. Just as he had been about to kill Elomot, something within the man's heart had reacted.
A Will Art.
If Atticus hadn't been strong enough, it would have blasted him back.
Yet he could tell that wasn't its true effect. He had felt it clearly, a spatial shift in the air. Slowly, his gaze fixed ahead.
The haze cleared.
Standing before Elomot was a large, broad man with an imposing stature. He was barely clothed, a thin loincloth covering his waist while leaving his massive, muscled frame exposed.
A small mustache rested beneath a face that looked as though it had been carved by the Greek gods themselves.
"F-fwada…"
The man was none other than Dunot True Mosan, the current patriarch of the Mosan family. A powerhouse
A slight frown rested on Dunot's face. But the moment he turned and saw the battered, bloodied state of his son, an intense coldness flickered through his eyes.
"Who dares do this to my son?"
