President Case Nishita had no idea where he'd been hit, but he could feel the excruciating pain with startling clarity. It was slowly creeping into his consciousness.
What surprised him, though, was that the pain hadn't clouded his mind. If anything, it had made his thoughts unusually clear.
He felt the warmth slowly leaving his body along with the blood from his wound. He felt numbness spreading through him. The lights flickered in his eyes, seeming to grow dim, yet they dazzled him so badly he couldn't keep his eyes open. All he could see was a blurred mass of light and shadow.
Everything in his field of vision had become indistinguishable.
As for the attacker who'd shot him, their departure was as steady as the shot they'd fired.
Odd, though. An attacker so methodical had shot him only once, then left. If they were an assassin, shouldn't they have made sure he was dead?
Or could there only be one shot when assassinating a president? Was that some kind of ritual? What a refined assassin!
Lost in thought, President Nishita leaned against the wall in front of him, letting the blood drain from his body as it grew colder by the second. Even now, his mind remained clear. He was even trying to figure out who had really ordered his assassination. Perhaps that counted as a kind of talent.
So why would the Alliance want me dead? Because I wanted them to get involved—or at least to expand their military aid—and that got in someone's way? Did the Alliance's appeasement faction want me dead, too?
And what did the marauders want? Because I was one of the three leaders who wiped out the Snake Pit? That's not fair! If they've got the guts, they should go after the Emperor!