"Please forgive me! S-Saint!" With all the strength in his lungs, the kid yelled as he pressed his head against the ground, sprawled out before Kyle, who now sat atop four dead ruffians—each having died moments apart after trying to attack him.
It wasn't Kyle who initiated the attack or reacted recklessly—after all, they were just ordinary mortals with crude weapons, like common thugs.
Now, seated atop their bodies, he looked down at the trembling boy and said,
"Tell me your tragic story."
Kyle could already guess the boy had been forced into this. The way he trembled in fear strongly suggested coercion—likely a hostage situation, with the thugs threatening his family to manipulate him into attacking.
It seemed this was the only path left for the child.
"Huh? What tragic story?" The boy slowly lifted his head, meeting Kyle's gaze. For a moment, they simply stared at each other until Kyle sighed.
