"Are you okay, Phidias?"
Lann asked casually from behind the mud wall.
The sculptor on the other side was still a bit shaken.
"No, I'm fine."
"Thank you, thank you! Zeus above, if it weren't for you, I'd surely be dead today!"
"Be careful, buddy. Given Athens' current atmosphere, you should thank Apollo."
Lann reminded in a joking tone.
"Yes, yes, Apollo! Thanks to the god of prophecy and foresight!"
Phidias replied, his tongue almost twisting.
From behind the mud wall came the sound of dragging heavy bodies, and Phidias' remarkable artistic imagination made him feel as if he was watching Lann handle the corpses.
Meanwhile, Cassandra, still in the ground floor hall, slowly released the bowstring, returning the longbow to her back.
"It seems Socrates was quite right."
Lann spoke while dragging the corpses of several Divine Guard he had dealt with.
To prevent the plague from affecting Phidias, he decided not to cross the wall to speak face-to-face with him.
