Chapter 170: Disappoint

There were remnants of crushed logs strewn across the ground, their once solid forms now reduced to splintered debris. The grass that once blanketed the area had been displaced, giving way to a substantial crack that snaked through the plain like a miniature hill, an eerie testament to the force that had torn through.

In the midst of this desolation stood a middle-aged man, his weathered face exposed without the confines of a helmet. Adorned in armor, a robe draped loosely behind him, he gripped a long sword with a hilt fashioned in the shape of a four-leaf clover. His gaze was fixed upon the heavens above, an air of pride emanating from his uplifted countenance.

As Desmond beheld the aftermath, a sense of awe and astonishment enveloped him, settling deep within his heart. His eyes fixated on the man's back, glimmering with a newfound fascination akin to a child discovering a captivating toy.