The Mist
Cassius raised his brow, puzzled by his son's words. "What do you mean? Of course, I'm coming with them," he replied firmly.
"No, it's too dangerous. Just go back to the village with Mother and Sister, alright?" Lucien urged, attempting to make his father understand.
"Huh? Are you looking down on me!?" Cassius's tone grew louder. "No one can run from a bullet."
"I can... I'm a mage, and I can use a magic shield."
"Just shut up, son! Let me be with them! I'm bored, you know?"
Lucien sighed and massaged his temples, informing her, "Lady Rosetta, I might have forgotten to mention this, but the mist is probably some kind of dark magic, and so is Abattre. He wields dark magic."
"So, Dad, even with your overpowering skills, you might not be able to do much!" he continued, frustration evident in his tone.