Ewald saw him in his dreams. A strange creature that was unlike anyone else.

Cold, indifferent... It's not real. It's like a skin stretched over unsuitable bones. With an attentive gaze crawling over Ewald's mortal body in search... What? Or... whom?

Ev guessed what the answer should be.

...These dreams were also strange. Viscous, dark, disturbing, like a swamp. And each time it seemed to Ewald that the creatures chasing him there were getting closer and closer.

Sometimes Ev wanted it to be true beyond his dreams.

He was tired.

And the Bloodhound continued its search.