"Bang."
An elite bug had its head torn off by a claw. Expressionless, old Edward flicked his hand as if he had just finished doing something trivial.
He strolled through the dangerous tunnel, leaning on his cane. His face was sickly, yet he paid no mind to what was happening around him. Ever since Paine and Lily had jumped into the subspace rift, their lives unknown, old Edward had kept up his current sour expression, as if everyone owed him money. Even Countess Laura, already "designated" as the second Grand Duke of the Wolfsbane Clan, didn't dare approach him.
But old Edward was actually in a terrible state.
The battle inside the Holy Blood Seal had pushed his genetic disease into a more severe stage. He should have been resting aboard the Scarlet Dawn, yet he had insisted on coming to the battlefield.
No one could talk him out of it. Not even Fato could manage it—instead, old Edward had given him a thorough dressing-down.
The Wolfsbane Lord's imposing presence seemed no different from before, but those who knew him well could tell that old Edward was growing old. It was a strange way to put it, considering that immortal vampires didn't truly "age" in the usual sense.
But Edward really was growing old.
It was plain to see in his increasingly white hair and the weariness in his eyes. He no longer pretended to be someone he wasn't, and had begun showing his true, antisocial and world-weary self.
Yet only a handful of people knew why old Edward had insisted on coming to the battlefield today.
He knew that his story would soon take a sudden turn here. He was waiting. Though every moment brought him stabbing pain from within, he still had to hold on until that event