Who Says I’m Not a Legitimate Adventurer?

The golden wheat waves of the Astral Realm rapidly faded from view like shattered mirrors.

Lance felt a powerful pulling force dragging at his soul before violently yanking it downward.

His consciousness slammed heavily back into his physical body within the Material Realm.

The familiar scent of the attic once again entered his nose, while the air still carried the pungent metallic smell of ritual paint.

The instant Lance reopened his eyes—

Ryan, who had been quietly waiting at the perimeter, uncontrollably stepped half a pace backward.

The moment Lance opened his eyes, the old soldier felt a wave of pressure rushing directly toward him.

That sense of danger resembled an unarmed ordinary person suddenly being stared down by a ferocious tiger within a dead end.

Ryan’s muscles instantly tightened, while his hand subconsciously gripped the handle of his oak cane.