章 122: The Grateful Dead

"D*mn it! That little b*stard… how dare he!"

Cecil was returning to his room in utter indignation, but he could not help shivering the instant he stepped inside his own room.

It was not the cold air, however, despite the hearth being not ignited.

What made him shudder was the ice-cold evil energy that was filling the room. The noble fur-coat he was wearing was not just for looks—he wouldn't feel the chill even if he were outside and it was pouring snow, much less within the castle.

That was when he noticed further a man dressed in a black cloak with a hood up that hid his face inside the room, sitting contentedly in his lounger.

"Who are you?!" Cecil growled the question and calmly grasped the hilt of his sword.

In the next instant, green flames ignited on the hearth, dancing and reaching out of the hearth itself while licking the bricked wall around it.

The terrible light promptly filled the room with faint sulfuric odor.