With arms folded across his chest and back, and another two resting on his waist, the six-armed human observed the battle cloud, and Anon...
"Boy," his voice was deep as he asked, "How long have you been drifting?"
Anon's ancestor cloud was less than fifty kilometers. On the other hand, he was on the cusp of becoming an empyrean cloud, over fifty-eight kilometers.
How long was this wild-haired youth adrift to face off against an opponent with such a vast disparity?
Anon guessed at this native's thoughts.
"A century or so." Anon smiled. "But there is no need to feel any type of way. In the end, your death is a certainty."
The six-armed man raised an eyebrow.
His head was bald, and his skin was tanned. His brows were sharp, and his jawline was extremely well-defined.
He had a bulky build with muscles that seemingly attempted to burst through his skin.
