"Huh? Aelric… it's really you?" Max blinked, surprised as he laid eyes on the familiar face of the Crown Prince of the Western Domain. While he'd half-expected to run into someone he knew, actually seeing Aelric here made him pause.
Aelric's reaction was even more stunned. He took a step closer, eyes widening as if trying to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. "Max? Is that really you?"
There was disbelief in his voice—understandable. The last time he saw Max, it had been under circumstances no one could forget. He remembered it clearly: Mark had snapped his fingers, and Max vanished. Just like that. Gone in an instant, swallowed by some unknown power.
Later, Mark revealed that he had sent Max to the pit deep within the Mourning Depths—a place of chaos and torment—because Max had lost control. Consumed by the sword. Driven mad by it.
Then the days passed.
Weeks.
Months.
Four months, to be exact.
No word. No trace. Nothing.
