The silence was almost tangible.
Milo had sensed to something felt familiar, but what he was witnessing went far beyond anything that could have been born of his imagination, the headless's cape fluttered in the breeze, the circle of blue, signature move of an old friend that should no longer be- The manifestation of a most powerful affinity for swordsmanship, indeed.
Even if Milo would like to deny the possibility, who else could wield this unique battle art so perfectly? And anyways… He could very clearly recognise the corpse's energy signature, it had been corrupted, it had been warped far from what it once was, but the truth remained crystal clear nonetheless.
This was Griar, the man who had left a strong enough impression upon Milo, so much so that he had named his son after him- His remains had been left behind in Tamaris, the method by which they had all been transported to the Emerald Realm had not worked on those whose life had already been depleted.
