A month later…
"If time was a sharp scimitar, then who is the owner behind the scimitar?"
AG half-kneeled in a wide sand dune, the golden sand flowing through his fingers, like fine golden gravel.
"What are you trying to say?"
Garen stood quietly behind him, his arms crossed in front of his chest, wearing sunglasses to shield off the light.
"I’m just thinking about it." AG shook his head, staring at an oasis in the middle of the golden desert, that was the White Phoenix’s headquarters here in Africa. It looked deserted here, but they just had to walk several meters forward, and there would be an alarm from the sand dunes ahead all to the way to the White Phoenix HQ, telling them that there was an intruder in their ranks.
The hundred or so elite fighters stationed inside would also pour out, and the traps hidden everywhere would instantly shoot everywhere.