"That's right, I fell next to Prophet."
Drake suddenly remembered, then used his saber as support to stand up, limping toward Prophet quickly. His tall frame stood straight like a shadowy guardian, shielding Prophet from harm. He turned his head slightly, eyes lowered to look at Prophet. The corners of his lips lifted into a truly confident, radiant smile.
"I told you, I will protect you. Just sit tight and stay put."
Even though his messy hair was scorched in places, and his maid outfit was torn, filthy with dust and fresh blood—making his words rather unconvincing—Prophet still couldn't help but stare at him in a daze.
Besides saying his name earlier, Drake realized that Prophet hadn't spoken a single word. Just how quiet can a person be?
"You're injured, stop talking so big!"
