What alarmed Edgar most was that this guy kept revealing one trump card after another.
Everyone knew he possessed invisibility and formidable defenses, but in today's battle, he had revealed extraordinary speed as well. Even A-Train, attacking by surprise at top speed, could neither get near him nor track his movements. He had so many trump cards that he was impossible to read.
"Damn it!"
Edgar cursed under his breath, clenching his fingers so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
Suppressed fury and apprehension intertwined in his heart, but his panic passed in an instant. His calculating mind quickly regained its composure, replaying the entire battle and catching the only opening.
Yes, however impossible Solomon was to counter, however many trump cards he possessed, he still had one fatal weakness-he feared electricity.
Although Black Noir's electrified sword had failed to seriously injure him earlier, it had forced him to deliberately evade rather than take it head-on. This was the only opening in the entire contest!
This was his final fallback, and his safest one!
At that thought, a cold light of certainty rekindled in Edgar's gloomy eyes, and his taut body relaxed slightly.
He looked up at the telephone beside his desk and, without the slightest hesitation, picked up the receiver and dialed an encrypted internal number.
The moment the call connected, he issued an order in a low voice, cold and decisive.
"Stormfront, make your move."
Inside the abandoned factory.
Black Noir, who had been knocked flying, quickly pushed himself off the ground. Ignoring the dull pain churning in his chest, he charged at Solomon again, intending to keep him tied up in close combat and stall for as long as possible.
Solomon's gaze swept indifferently over the specially made sword, which had fallen and skidded to a stop