After defeating the beast, Azhriel didn't waste any time.
He turned and began heading towards where Arianne and Serica were, the air around him still carrying traces of his icy mana. The chill lingered, frosting the grass lightly beneath his feet with every step.
He hadn't gone too far fighting. In just a few minutes, he reached them.
"Hey," he said, his voice calm as he approached, announcing his presence.
Arianne turned at the sound, her sharp eyes immediately scanning him from head to toe.
"Are you alright?" she asked, her tone was steady, face neutral but her voice held a faint trace of concern.
Blood stained Azhriel's forehead, a thin line that had dried under the cold air. His clothes were torn in several places, dark with old blood and dust, and his coat hung awkwardly over one shoulder, half-slashed.
Still, Azhriel stood tall.
