It was a blur.
He was in pain and exhausted. His body felt unbearably heavy and laden with the wounds caused by his own allies and the enemy's arrows.
However, he fought.
It was his instinct, the one his adoptive father hammered in him.
Even though his mind seemed to have gone blank already, his body continued on its own, a beast set loose without the reins of consciousness to hold him back.
He could feel the slashes fall on him, but their pain could not have exceeded what he was already feeling, and that's what made him never react to them.
How did it end? He had no idea.
The last thing he remembered was facing the large man, yet when he woke up, he was looking at the white ceiling of a makeshift tent.
The groans and grunts on his sides told him that he was not the only one there.
His head was a mess. It was very painful that he wanted so badly to get rid of it.
However, as he raised his hands to hold it, he realized something was off.
