Since the night before, Xavier had been fully suited in military attire, standing vigilant and sleepless. He gripped a massive broadsword, and when the butler spoke, his voice was ice-cold. "Don't worry. Andarov won't fail me. That bastard Andrew is as good as dead."

Though those were his words, doubt lingered in Xavier's mind. After all, Andarov never took this long to finish a kill. Nonetheless, the sun was rising—he should be back any minute now.

Andarov, commander of the Blood Wolf Merce