"He is gone."
"Ah...yes."
The female voice from behind was familiar; she, her intentions, and the appropriate response were all clear.
Only.
"He's already gone."
Roland didn't turn his head, his young voice was tinged with a sense of exhaustion, like dying dry grass, swaying powerlessly in the wind, silently awaiting the arrival of death.
There was no trace of vitality left in Roland.
If someone were to stab him in the back now, he probably wouldn't dodge or run, indifferently accepting his own death.
Now was the perfect time to act.
Slap—
The originally lowered face tilted to one side, the impact and pain only reaching the mind moments later.
"Don't just stand there foolishly; the war isn't over yet."
Victoria shook her hand, her icy gaze fixed on Roland.
"If you die just like that, that fool would have truly died for nothing."
