Mourning Barbatos in Sorrow (Continued)

At that moment, he sincerely wanted to judge for himself, choose for himself, and help others of his own accord rather than because he was told to.

For that reason alone, he had answered Gord and joined this Holy Grail War.

Unfortunately, throughout the Holy Grail War, he had never done what he truly wanted to do, never offered his strength of his own will—until now.

"Saber, what are you doing?" Gord asked tentatively.

Siegfried said nothing. He merely walked quietly to the homunculus's side.

A sickly flush covered every part of her body.

The veins beneath her skin stood out clearly.

Her tightly furrowed brow made even her delicate face look somewhat twisted.

With one hand pressed against her chest, she panted violently, her will struggling against her body. If she gave up now, the pain would end.

Excruciating pain raged through every corner of her nerves.

Just like himself now.

Panting harshly, Siegfried clutched his chest, even wrapping his arms around himself. Cold sweat poured from him. His legs gave out, and he crouched down. He no longer had the strength to stand.

"Saber! Saber!"

Gord hurried to his side, took out a handkerchief, and began wiping away his sweat.

But the handkerchief had already wiped the homunculus's sweat and had not been wrung out. When he used it on Siegfried, it only made his face wetter.

"Ah, I'm such an idiot. Fiore, do you have another handkerchief?"

"Uncle Gord, I already gave you mine. You could just wring it out," Fiore suggested.

Gord hurried off to the bathroom to wash the handkerchief.

Having recovered a little, Siegfried raised his head and stood up, but his gaze was drawn to the homunculus.

On the bed, the homunculus's hand had begun to droop weakly.

Had she given up struggling?