The automatic doors of the medical wing hissed softly as Rama, Shoji, and Axel began to step out, their bodies mostly patched up and their minds still rattled with urgency.
But they barely made it three steps down the corridor before a tall figure blocked their path.
He was a man in his thirties. His short black hair styled into sharp spikes and his face carved with the kind of hardened tension only found in someone who had seen too many battles and lost too many friends.
He was broad-shouldered and clad in Crimson Vale colors, the man's eyes narrowed as he looked at them, suspicion burning beneath his stare.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, voice low and cold.
Rama didn't flinch. He stepped forward.
"We're going after someone. An old sorcerer. He's already taken something dangerous in that mausoleum. If we don't find him now the city could be in danger," Rama said.
The man's brow furrowed deeper. His arms crossed tightly across his chest.
