"Henry, what did you see?" An old man stood quietly under the starry sky. It was hard to tell his age; his long white hair was blowing in the air, and his face was battered with deep wrinkles, looking like they were carved with knives.
The folds of his eyelids were saggy, as if they couldn't hold the weight and were trying to squeeze his eyes into slits. He looked weak, but his voice was deep and as loud as a bell, putting pressure on others. "It's weird. A fire mage, a swordsman, and... a necromancer. When did Paul start to work with a necromancer?" A guy named Henry asked, standing up.
"The ground is still warm from the lava. They must have left recently. Professor, we can still catch them."
"Ok, then..." The old man's face grew stern, and he turned to the side. Henry also turned a
