"I wonder how good your Fantasy Heart tastes, Prince Louis. You had so many Spirals…" He chuckled, opening his jaws and taking a bite. Black blood seeped between his white teeth as he swallowed the bitter-sweet flavor. "Hm, it is—Ugh? Dry?"
His mouth filled with ashes. He coughed violently. His eyes widened as the heart in his hand crumbled into ash and scattered on the wind.
A silhouette rose behind him.
"The Play's over."
"…?!"
Veynar's face twisted in disbelief and fear. A chill raced down his spine as something sharp lunged at him.
CLASH!
His Dark Knight Incarnation intercepted it by a hair, hurling the golden spear Louis wielded into the rubble.
"Y-You…!"
Veynar turned. The Prince he believed dead was… alive. Against all odds.
Had he turned himself into an Undead?
No—he was very much alive. His lifeforce burned as strong as ever.
Then how? Had he been tricked? Him—the master deceiver, the weaver of plots and Malevolent Plays?
Who could outsmart him?
