Ⅱ
Huff! Huff!
Sprawled on the ground, Pistrie gasped for breath.
As he watched the Pale Hand member's lips move, anger rose in his heart.
He was angry at the man's mockery.
Even more, he was angry at his own helplessness.
Nearby, the Raven Feather and Greenstone Forest members fought, every swing of the giant scythe whipping through the air with a fierce whoosh.
The old man from the Greenstone Forest dodged unhurriedly, tossing out a seed now and then.
The woman from the Snake Sect, however, was in trouble.
After the Theophat Psychic Order member's [Distortion] had nearly made her plunge her dagger into her own neck, their fight had become utterly one-sided.
Under these circumstances, the Theophat Psychic Order member naturally had the entire battlefield in view.
He had also seen what had happened to Pistrie.
Then-
He laughed.
It was blatant mockery.
Pistrie lowered his head.
He could not face such ridicule.
Or rather, he had already lost all dignity before that ridicule even began.
When the poison on the vine's thorns entered his body, the Old Lion's youngest son felt himself go numb-and regretted everything.
He did not know why he had squandered so much time.
Even if he had little talent, wouldn't learning something have been better?
Or wouldn't it have been better to follow the path his father had laid out for him?
Faced with death, the Old Lion's youngest son began to waver.
That was only natural.
No one could ignore death.
Even heroes felt fear when facing death.
How much more so for a sheltered flower like the Old Lion's youngest son?
Regret, helplessness, and anger intertwined.
The Old Lion's youngest son's [Spirituality] stirred once again.
And it began to twist in its own peculiar way, about to drag the Old Lion's