An elven child, tears flowing and snot dripping, cried out.
The child’s tiny hands were pushing on the chest of a fallen man. Hands that were quickly turning a deep crimson.
She was trying to cover the unstoppable blood flowing from the large gash running through the man’s abdomen.
The elf was struggling, floundering to stop the young man’s death, even for a small time.
“Dying is for losers, okay! …Rayd!”
The man wiped the tears off the small elf’s face with his left hand… He’d already given up.
His left hand was losing connection with his mind; he could no longer feel the warmth of the elf’s face.
He reached out to the girl’s face with his right, and brushed off the tears. But, blood just replaced tears in covering the elf’s face.
Blood of his own and of his enemies.
At the corner of his vision was the cadaver of a demon god he defeated earlier.
And at the opposite side of his vision were children paralyzed in fright. They were the people he’d fought to save from sacrifice. He only barely succeeded.
Only one of the group, the girl in front of him, moved. She rushed to the man to care for him.
In a different direction lied the cold bodies of the children that he was too late to save. Near them was the priest that orchestrated this all.
He obviously wouldn’t be fine. He was already resigned to his death.
Even so, he had a reason to say that he’d be fine.
He had a friend with him, and she was gone.
A girl who seemingly knew everything and was lauded as a sage. She was gone.
She wasn’t gone for no reason.
Someone as smart as her could only be gone for a single reason. To call for help. It was something he asked her to do.
Magic was not her strong suit.
She might be more skillful than the common man, but her power could not save the man from the verge of death.
She left to go call for someone who could save him. She was made to leave.
“That’s why…I’ll be, fine…”
The man labored to spit out blood―he had a lung injury―to console the girl.
Death was prominent. His friend left to took the most probable way to be able save him, trying to find someone who could help, but even that probable way was a one in a million chance.
He knew he was going to die, but he wanted to make the person by his side have, at the very least, not sad.
“Since――I’m not…going to, die…”
The man left a promise that he couldn’t keep.
At the next second, the young man―Rayd, the Shadow’s Feather―died.