"Still clinging to your futile persistence?"
Outside the cube, Marquis Winter held the short sword in his hand, his gaze chilling.
He understood well the saying that a long night brings many dreams, especially when facing someone like Fiona, who holds a special place in prophecy; the longer he delayed, the greater the chance for unforeseen variables to arise.
Whether it was the currently unaccounted for King of Nightmare Spirits or some other unknown factor, any could lead to his failure.
Although the girl's current rebelled seemed insignificant in his eyes, Marquis Winter did not immediately make the next move. A subtle sense of crisis continued to haunt him.
Marquis Winter wasn't sure where this feeling of crisis came from, but it made him even more vigilant, suspecting that he might have been targeted by some powerful existence.
