Quinn, still stationed as one of the officials beside the door, opened it, and a procession of men filed into the chamber. They were dressed in pure black combat attire, outfitted for war. Their faces were set in hard, focused expressions. Worn by people who had seen the true horrors of the Wasteland firsthand and lived to tell the tale. There was no bravado in them, they were all seasoned veterans.
Moon quietly counted them as they entered, and his senses extended to gauge their strength.
Ten Surpassers.. and they are not weak ones. Some of these could kill me easily.
The aura radiating from the ten men was dense and refined, and as Moon read it more carefully, his assessment sharpened.
These weren't fresh or middling Surpassers. Several of them were approaching the very peak of the Surpasser rank, their power far beyond what Moon could contend with at his current stage.
A handful among them carried auras that dwarfed his own, but they were in the early stage of Surpasser Rank.
