"Alas." The silver-haired Lost Boy sighed, not daring to look Dylan in the eye. He tilted his head to look at the clean bluestone floor and said with a painful expression:
"He was besieged by vampires and supernatural beings. When he fled back to the castle, both of his arms were cut off, a bone spur several meters long pierced his chest, and his body was covered with gunshot wounds. Although the two purple-robed cardinals used magic power to treat him for several days and purified the dirt in his body several times, he still couldn't hold on and left us forever."
"Dead...dead? I've only been away from here for a few months, and he died? I remember he said..." Dylan spoke in a deep voice, his nose suddenly felt sore, but he couldn't shed a single tear.
The lost, especially those in upper-level professions, will lose a lot of ability to express emotions. The inability to cry is one of the side effects of gaining power.
"I remember what he said..." Dylan repeated to himself. He ignored the dust on the ground and sat down on a brick step near the iron gate, holding his head in pain and wanting to scream.
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