They both eyed the so-called protagonist of the game.
Sure, he was unreasonably handsome but that was all he had going for him.
Handsome packaging wrapped around a hollow interior.
Because when Azel focused a little more carefully, he felt… nothing.
No real pressure, no deep reserves of magical energy radiating off Reinhardt's body.
He wasn't some towering genius yet, not the Hero the world whispered about. Right now, he was painfully average.
'Right…' Azel thought, watching the boy's silver eyes narrow in indignation as he spiraled into a tantrum about how one was never supposed to touch the Hero of the world.
The irony almost made him laugh.
'This guy is weaker in the earlier parts of the game.'
It was funny, really.
In the original game, Reinhardt was supposed to stumble across a hidden relic here — a weapon so useless in the hands of anyone else it might as well have been a cursed trinket.
