Albert looked at Fenris, who was licking his chops. They would soon go back to the arena. They would soon face the next boss mob. Albert looked down at himself.
His robe was clinging to his body. A body that had meat on its bones. Strong muscles.
Albert grinned.
Oh, he could still heal. He could bandage a wound. He could treat poisons with potions. But he could poison now. He could crush skulls.
"Well," Albert said to himself, as he stretched, just a couple of warm-up stretches to ensure he could be flexible.
"Fenris," Albert picked up his staff. The staff he had soaked up with his mana for the better part of the last five years.
Even if those five years had seemed to be just a second to the outside world.
"Ready?" Albert asked finally. The wolf sprang up from his spot. Rushing out of the rune.
"If no one cares," Albert made a sure step. Heading out. Leaving the old Albert behind. "But no."
