"Yes… Yes, I am. My dream is to become a great potion maker."
The Sorcerer-Apprentice was called Nigra. He was one of the Sorcerer-Apprentice that had often been overlooked and shunned by the rest, but those black eyes of his held a silent spirit of patience and perseverance. This was inconsistent with Grimm's first impression of him, which was that of impermanence. In fact, it reminded Grimm of the expectations and tolerance he had built while studying the power of his Destructive Force.
"Hmm."
Grimm paused, and without any indication, he turned his white masked face toward the horizon.
The energy signature from the Hydra Wrath Sorcerer Tower had risen to a fever pitch, it seemed like the battle was reaching its most intense period.
By his side, Nigra stared at the dark, illusory mist that half curled around Grimm's body, feeling so much excitement that he could not find his voice.