426 The Saviour

A striking and dashing figure, donned in a simple white shirt beneath a black overcoat and matching pants, completed with long boots, strolled into the room with casual grace. In his right hand, he held a sheathed sword, his entrance undeterred by the moonlight filtering through the window.

His piercing brown eyes surveyed the room, sweeping from the unconscious form of Arlan and settling on the enigmatic figures within. Among them, one was familiar, while the other remained concealed beneath a shroud of dark fabric, concealing her entire frame, not a glimpse of her face in sight.

His objective was crystal clear, his gaze fixated on the shrouded woman who likely still grappled with the shock of his sudden appearance.

"Who are you?" the witch inquired.