Outside the arena and the slave market...
More than a kilometer away, on a high tree branch, two human figures covered by mouse-like masks and wearing green robes sat together.
In front of them were two small cups, each with steam still rising from it as tea had already been prepared.
"He survived," one of them couldn't help but say in surprise as the other looked at the distant giant mountain with disgust.
"If even he couldn't survive this, then how can he become the leader of our organization in the future?" the second human spoke, not impressed.
"But you must know he started as a mortal. And you have seen his life from the beginning. He hasn't had it easy," the first human said.
"Exactly. He hasn't had it easy. Tell me, who ever has? Don't make excuses for him. You faced yours, the same way I faced mine before being rescued by the organization," the second human spoke matter-of-factly, disregarding Keith's survival capability.
"Yes, we did, but that isn't compar—"
