The face of sage was framed by a long white beard and moustache. His eyebrow hair reached all the way down to his beard, and his face bore countless wrinkles. On his forehead, a white ribbon was tied, dyed crimson at the centre.
His body was rotting with festering wounds, oozing pus and blood. It was a miracle that he was still alive in such a state.
"Who are you, old man?" Rudra demanded, turning his focus to the sage. "How did you suppress our powers!?"
"It does not matter who I am," the sage said, his voice cracked with age.
He slowly rose to his feet with the help of a stick and declared, "You will not destroy anything further."
"Why am I meeting so many arrogant people today!?" Rudra barked, rushing toward the sage.
The old sage, who had kept his eyes closed until now, slowly opened them and stared at Rudra.
The moment his gaze landed on him, a sudden energy distortion occurred around Rudra's body, and he collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony for several moments.
