The old man watched Varian's contorted expression. His face was still so stoic and he was overflowing with a chilling aura, one that only the most cold blooded of killers would posess. He didn't smile but his eyes were twinkling with glee.
Like a child that found its lost toy, he gazed at the young man who appeared out of the formations.
He did notice the innumerable formations, each filled with mystic magic circles and runes stuttering and coming to a halt, making noises akin to a chalk scratching against a board.
For these formations which were instated to control the Fortune Spirit to stop must've meant something was seriously wrong.
This change would shake up not just the Pala Kingdom but even its neighbors. Any disturbance to the roots of Palarian race would have an effect on the Alliance's army that couldn't be neglected.
But the old man didn't care.