Stepping up the hundred-odd steps to the next floor, the group held hushed conversations, feeling like even their whispers were out-of-place inside this place. It felt like the walls were shunning their loud presence in here, where everything else was quiet.
Reaching the second floor, a man sat in the center of the floor, with things looking similar to spell sigils floating around him, ever-changing.
The man had his eyes closed, arms on his knees, and palms raised upward as he touched his thumb and middle finger together. It looked like old meditation postures that monks used when praying to Buddha.
Alexander looked at him, reflexively spreading his senses over the room, and frowned.
The man in the center of the room, although visible to everyone present, as proven by their strange gazes toward him, barely registered on his mana senses. It was like he was a spectre, and his senses couldn't grasp his presence completely.
