A blood mage in hiding
An hour later, Ezra felt something cold and wet on his forehead and slowly opened his eyes. His throat felt so dry that he gasped for breath and soon started coughing.

“Wha…what happened?” Ezra questioned in a feeble voice as he faintly made out the blurry outline of an elderly man standing over him.

“You expended all your strength and magic power during the fight. It caused severe contractions within your body and weakened your immunity, hence the fever,” a familiar voice replied.

Ezra tried to get up, but he was still too weak to stand up on his own, so the man beside him propped him up with a pillow.

As Ezra’s vision slowly cleared, he squeezed the tears from his eyes and wiped his face clean with his kerchief.

“I think you should stay the night. Your body is in pretty bad shape.”

Hearing the man’s voice, Ezra turned his head to look at him. He thought it was Glenn, but the man looked far younger than the old collector.

“Who are you? What are you doing here? Are you with thos
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