At this stage, if Rolo did not temper with his memories, he would have forlornly wondered what motive Zax had to let him go. He should have at least speculated it somehow has something to do with him and not foolishly sent him away without taking precautions.
Instead, Rolo felt discomfort without knowing why, and then everything turned black.
Holding his hands behind his back, a gorgeous black skinned man with long, flowing blond hair and a green, scaly suit hovered above rows of Martial Mortals, all of whom with blank, zombielike stares.
In his eyes swirled white whirlpools, whoever he directed them toward, images and echoes, memories straight from the treasury of the soul, would get copied and pulled out to a thumb size, white pearl.
One Martial Mortal after the o