It wasn't just Bronson.
This time, even Duraga's eyes, which usually shone with a firm and rugged light, were veiled by a strange haze of confusion.
The Gray Dwarf leader was subconsciously stroking his thick beard, his brow furrowed as his unfocused gaze swept across the bustling streets around them.
It was as if he were trying to recognize a long-forgotten fragment of a dream, or as if some sort of "memory" embedded deep in his bloodline—one unrelated to forging and rock—was trying to surface.
Seeing such an expression on the face of the Gray Dwarf leader, known for his unyielding will, was far more serious than what had happened with Bronson earlier.
The "assimilation" of the time loop was accelerating and spreading.
A cold sense of urgency once again gripped Roland by the throat.
He had no time to revel in the joy of discovering a clue, and even less time to wait for his companions to slowly "recall" their memories or break free from this erosion on their own.
