Ⅷ
Little Lion had never expected Arthur to pass Rondohart Port without entering.
So Arthur's sudden return had caught Little Lion off guard as well.
Let alone Arthur having a raven snatch [Thief's Interstice].
None of this had been within Little Lion's expectations.
But he was different from ordinary people.
Anyone else would have panicked long ago in this situation.
And Little Lion?
He adjusted his strategy.
He knew very well how tempting [Thief's Interstice] was.
Once someone got their hands on [Thief's Interstice], how could they possibly resist using it?
Especially when faced with a "treasure trove" like him, resisting would be impossible.
That was human nature!
So Little Lion had "created an opportunity" for Arthur to use [Thief's Interstice]-without question, that seemingly farcical exchange with Count Bette just now had been deliberate.
Little Lion wanted Arthur to grow old and decrepit.
Little Lion wanted Arthur to drown in regret.
Little Lion wanted Arthur to understand that picking a fight with him meant running headfirst into a brick wall.
And so, at that moment, Little Lion began his psychological assault-
"I've used [Thief's Interstice] three times.
Each time, I stole someone else's Mystic Art. Depending on how far they'd advanced in it, it cost roughly twenty to a hundred years.
But what you stole was my [Parasitic Revival], which I've perfected, so you've already spent at least a hundred years of your lifespan.
You were seventeen before.
Which means you're a hundred and seventeen now.
Tsk, tsk.
How terrifying.
A hundred years of your life gone in an instant. Have all your teeth fallen out yet?
Of course, if you lied about your age before, you might be a hundred and twenty now. A hundred and thirty? Or even older?
Can you even walk anymore?"
As he spoke, Little