![]() Report the situation." At this, a man, seemed about to be in his thirties, grudged up from a crate. Inside, as Brevarian stated, everyone was inside, polishing their weapons and whatnot. I shrugged my shoulders, and he led me to a window leading to the catwalks. "The others are inside, hiding upon catwalks, although it will be an hour or so until the recruitment starts." He replied monotonously. "Is everyone else ready, Brevarian?" I asked impatiently, shaking his hand. His rags shuffled as he walked, and he stopped to reach out an old hand. He was among the wisest of us all, and a long beard protrudes from his chin. I've heard stories from my father that in his prime, Brevarian broke his axe in a battle protecting his village, and in replacement, with the power of aura to preserve Grimm corpses, he ripped bones from Beowulves with his bare hands, and fashioned them to archaic bone claws. The old man got up with a groan, weapons in hand. ![]() ![]() ![]() I could feel the sun setting on my back, and the crisp evening air.īrevarian leaned on the side of the wall, waiting for me. I exited the school and made my way towards an abandoned warehouse. ![]()
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