Tristan, Matthias, and Nathaniel ran as fast as they could, glancing over their shoulders, terrified that the white-robed man might appear behind them at any moment.
Only after several miles—far from the deep pit—did they slow down, gasping for air, faces still drained of color.
“What… what kind of monster is that? How can anyone be that powerful?” Nathaniel leaned against a tree, his voice trembling, his complexion pale.
Tristan shook his head. “I don’t know… but I’m sure he’s no ordinary man. We’re in serious trouble this time.”
Matthias’s grip tightened on his sword. “Talking won’t help. We have to move on and find somewhere safe. Who knows when that monster will appear again?”
They exchanged looks and saw the same flicker of fear in each other’s eyes.
Their boots crunched on gravel, thorns tore at their clothes, yet the rhythm of escape didn’t stop. Sanji had thought only of running, never once looking back.
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