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Little sheep? With no wool? Negris also poked his head in, curious to see who was speaking so boldly.

But after one second, two seconds, three seconds... the owl didn't make a sound again.

"Could it be... asleep? We should pluck its feathers and make a nest," Negris suggested.

The owl sensed the wrong tone of voice and suddenly propped itself up, keeping its body still but twisting its head one hundred and eighty degrees, eyes glaring with light fixed on Ange: "Who are you!? Where's Maca? Get out!"

A powerful surge of spiritual power suddenly erupted, slamming into Ange.

Ange tilted his head.

The owl's eyes rounded in shock. It quickly turned its body, wings positioned defensively in front of itself, looking at Ange in horror.

Negris peeked out from behind, looked at the owl, then at Ange, and asked in confusion, "Did it just... hit you with a spiritual attack?"

Ange nodded.