About ten to fifteen minutes passed, or so I think. The fifteen Indulgers of the Stunted Lesion heard my explanation, dwindling between disbelief and belief.
"Let's say we believe your story. Do you have any proof you're rookies of the Eerie Gothel?" the man who tossed me the ID inquired. "Surely your faction couldn't have sent you here without some sort of identification."
He was right. "I don't have any form of ID on me."
"So why should we believe you?"
I stretched out my hand and opened my palm. "Just because I don't have an ID doesn't mean I can't prove my faction. Try and clasp my palm." The confidence I exuded spoke volumes.
Reginald came to my front, pushed Herdrick back, and stretched his palm as well. Before our skin could make contact, the sharp point of a small glowing pin pierced through my flesh, sending a jolt towards him.
He recoiled, gripping his hand with a pained face. His colleagues circled me immediately, each on the verge of ending my life.
