Normally, the sight of someone crying was something sad and pitiful, something that pulled at your heartstrings and made you want to comfort them.
That was exactly what the elves had felt for Luca at first.
They had no idea who that flower woman was, or where those voices came from, or how any of it was possible.
They were confused and bewildered.
But their concern for Luca overrode everything else.
That's why they had surged forward, enveloping him in a massive group hug, determined to smother his sorrow with their warmth.
But then they actually looked at him.
And something changed.
This was the Hero. The man sent by the Goddess herself. Someone so powerful that the entire human continent trembled at his name.
He was practically a God playing at being mortal, always confident, always in control, always untouchable.
And yet here he was crying. Sobbing like a child. Completely vulnerable, completely broken, completely open.
The contrast was intoxicating.
