Clever, The Strongest Participant of the Trial

Follower stalked the empty, decaying streets of Termina, his vision fixated on the arrow floating above him, its gleaming edge supposed to guide him toward Stark's aura.

He had trailed it without question, but then, without warning, it simply vanished.

"Lord?" he muttered, confusion twisting his face. "What happened?!"

The familiar, chilling voice of his patron spoke into his mind:

[The connection has been cut. Either Chosen has died, or he used an item that teleported him somewhere.]

Follower clenched his fist, frustration bubbling under his calm exterior. "Then bring it back! I don't care how. Just bring the arrow back!"

[Impossible. His aura is the key. Unless he uses it again, I won't be able to locate him.]

The voice grew colder, almost amused.

[It's rare to find an aura so filled with raw hatred. It's one of the strongest I've ever sensed.]

Follower suppressed a snarl.