Outside Piccadilly Circus, beneath an arcade far from the chaos and lights, shrouded in the shadows of the surrounding buildings, two figures blended into the darkness as they silently observed the disturbance at the center of the square.
Lucius leaned on his Serpent-head Cane, his fingertips absently stroking its smooth shaft. His face retained its usual indifference and superiority, as though everything before him was nothing more than a vulgar street performance.
Aiden, no longer wearing his Half-face Mask, leaned against a cold stone pillar. Through gaps in the crowd, his intact right eye precisely locked onto the exceptionally conspicuous figure—Vincent Wayne.
When Vincent held the softly glowing Serpent Staff and treated hundreds of people at once, Lucius's brows twitched violently.
And when Vincent used Fiendfyre to burn the pentagram decoration, the air around the two of them seemed to freeze.
Aiden's voice was soft. "Why is he here?"
Lucius let out a short, cold snort through his nose. "Vincent Wayne... that attention-seeking brat Fudge raised to the heavens, only to throw back into the mud. He's playing the hero again."
His tone was filled with the usual disdain of a pure-blood lord, every word trying to reduce Vincent to an upstart who did not know his place.
However, from the corner of his right eye, Aiden keenly noticed that the knuckles of Lucius's hand around the Serpent-head Cane had turned faintly white from the force of his grip.
Aiden sneered.
More than anyone else, Lucius knew what Vincent was capable of. This Muggle-born Dark Lord of the new era had crashed into the Wizarding World like a brilliant meteor, using solid achievements and the Order of Merlin to deliver a resounding slap to every pure-blood supremacist.
Even though he had fallen from hero to wanted criminal, no one dared