Damon crossed his arms, watching them from a sand dune, a bow and arrow held awkwardly in both hands.
He wasn't worried, he just wanted to hold his bow in his hand.
It was strange crossing his arms while gripping a bow and arrow at the same time. He almost looked… anxious.
Lazarak chuckled, sitting casually atop the hot sand dune.
"You're more worried than I thought."
Damon sighed, shaking his head.
"What class do you think they'll awaken to?"
Lazarak knew Damon was deflecting, avoiding showing how much he cared.
He really didn't want to admit the two children grew on him. Though it had been a very short time.
"A class is heavily dependent on one's life philosophy and identity," Lazarak replied calmly. "In the early days, there was no such thing as classes. Only nine mortal ranks. But after my rebellion, things changed."
