Byron's vision was sharp, and through the translucent golden membrane, he could see the situation in the Central Square.
The statue still stood in the very center of the square, but at some point, several figures had appeared around its base.
All of those figures wore dark gray robes that only elders of the Black Stone Tribe could wear, with cuffs dyed red with ochre powder to symbolize their seniority. There were several individuals, evenly distributed around the statue's base, each pressing their hands onto the rough stone slabs at the edge. Their knuckles were slightly white due to exertion.
Kao was among them, positioned directly facing the front of the statue, with veins bulging on his forehead, sweat sliding down his cheeks, yet his hands remained firmly pressed on the stone slabs, showing no signs of retreat.
Byron squinted his eyes and spat onto the ground.
These old folks, who usually needed walking sticks, now seemed each sturdier than the next.
