At the far end of the cabin, the half-closed wooden door opened.
Bainby's eyelids drooped as he clung to life. His vision was blurred, but his eyes remained fixed on Rowan.
The pain in his chest, shoulders, and abdomen nearly made Bainby pass out. Only his control over his rage allowed him to hold on and stay conscious.
The mission wasn't over. He hadn't lost yet.
Bainby was an orphan. As a child, he had survived by scavenging along Old Drustvar Road. Lady Priscilla had taken him in when she visited Arrowvale Town.
In Arrowvale Town, Bainby had many companions around his own age.
Orphans had no childhood. Bainby had tried to live like a normal person, but the brutal life in Arrowvale Town had changed his hopes for the future.
Priscilla had trained them into instruments of slaughter.
An enclosed courtyard, strict and brutal instructors, and training that left his entire body feeling as though it would fall apart-those were Bainby's only memories of that time.
Unfortunately, not everyone who was broken in received a protagonist's treatment. His surroundings had changed Bainby completely, turning him into a tool through and through.
He would sacrifice anything to carry out a mission. Life and hope were mere illusions that had nothing to do with him.
His reason for carrying out Priscilla's assassination mission was simple: he wanted Rowan dead.
Even with almost no chance of completing the assassination, he still harbored a powerful rage toward his target. As long as Rowan lived, he still had a reason to keep himself alive.
"Confess, and you'll be treated leniently. Resist, and you'll suffer. Tell me everything you know, and I'll let you die with dignity." Holding a thin cord, Rowan surveyed the cabin without looking at Bainby.
Bainby's head tilted to one side,