At this thought, Luke's expression grew hesitant. He felt there was something strange about himself.
He had a personality that hated trouble the most. Normally, his days were spent honing his skills in battle and thinking about how to enhance his Bloodline.
Luke didn't enjoy interacting with people and wasn't as sociable as his peers within the clan.
Yet here he was, actually willing to meet up on the Virtual Source Network with an opponent he had just fought—an opponent who had ambushed him, no less.
Unable to figure it out, Luke subconsciously reached up to scratch his head.
It was a habitual motion, but before his hand could touch his head, it was blocked by something hard and warm.
When a member of the Fallen Energy Race touched their own horn, they could feel it to some extent.
It just wasn't as distinct a sensation as when someone else touched it.
Luke's hand traced his horn. His body stiffened, and he abruptly shot out of bed and rushed to the mirror.
