The only thing he should be thinking about was keeping the environment around his partner safe and secure.
As for the chatterbox steward nearby...
Who cared what he said? A dark elf certainly did not care.
Time passed quickly, and soon, the day of the war arrived.
As he was about to follow Illiya onto the battlefield, the uneasiness Drow had forcefully suppressed resurfaced again, rising up uncontrollably and making his heart race.
Cold sweat broke out on his back, soaking the inner layer of his clothing.
This was not normal.
As a properly trained dark elf, he had perfectly inherited his racial traits, one of which was a natural sense for danger.
Whenever danger approached, or was about to occur, he would feel a powerful sense of unease.
It was always accompanied by an intense restlessness. Breaking out in cold sweat was merely a minor symptom.
He had never once doubted his intuition, because this very instinct had saved him from countless crises.
