Chapter 441 – Well, boys?
"I am sorry for your grandmother." The old wolfish man, hair completely white thanks to his old age, said, his eyes filled with pity and sadness.
His words were addressed to the standing Loup.
Loup didn't say anything — he couldn't, anyway — his eyes transfixed on the pair of black gauntlets with needles spiking out of the knuckles resting on his hands.
His body was shaking.
They were inside the Workshop of Fenrir, on the lowest floor — the blacksmith forge, precisely — one Daggy Fenrir personally controlled.
The air was blisteringly hot, slamming Loup on all sides.
He had been there for no more than 5 minutes, yet his face was drenched in sweat, his ragged white shirt plastering tightly on his bony chest.
White, behind, was completely unbothered. He strode around, hands on his back, looking at the items displayed on the walls with childish curiosity yet mixed with a note of disdain.
