Pistri's hand sank, holding the head of his own brother.
And with it came a sinking feeling in his heart.
He looked at his brother who died with his eyes wide open, disbelief reflected in his pale golden eyes, as if seeing his own death.
That sense of unease made the Young Lion swallow hard.
But it did not make him feel comfortable.
On the contrary, his dry throat made the Young Lion increasingly uncomfortable.
Subconsciously, the Young Lion glanced at Acker.
Then—
No one.
Except for the headless corpse on the ground and ten human skins, it was just him.
Not a single living person.
Ooh!
The warm breeze of dawn blew in, yet it made the Young Lion shiver.
Fear could no longer be contained.
It began to truly permeate.
The moment he remembered the middle-aged man who seemed like a laborer, some thoughts that should not have existed vanished completely.
Pistri did not want to die.
Especially not in such an unclear manner.
He had his own dreams.
