Mars didn't respond to him directly. Instead, he turned back to the elder.
"I'm reporting this to my father. He'll know what to do."
He looked back at the spiky-haired man, his tone growing firm.
"And we're not abandoning him. Or the other humans in that caravan."
"They're still our people," Mars said. "Even if they've been forgotten, we don't forget."
The arrogant man scoffed but said nothing.
The old man nodded slowly, though his eyes held concern. "We'll report it, yes. But the caravan's heading toward Elven territory. That's a problem."
---
Max sat quietly in the back of the cart, his body still but his senses razor-sharp. His golden-yellow soul hummed faintly, scanning the landscape in every direction, like an unseen radar pulsing outward.
And then he felt it.
Faint fluctuations. Movement—not demonic.
His eyes narrowed.
"Humans?" he murmured, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. "Finally."
