The Legate's gaze sharpened toward the approaching entities, but before he could move.
A weak voice echoed through the smoke.
"Where do you think you're going…?"
The Legate turned. Lucian stood there, barely recognizable beneath the blood and dirt. His armor was shattered, his face bruised, and his left arm hung limp, but his golden eyes still burned with defiance.
"Still standing?" the Legate said coldly. "You are truly annoying."
Lucian gripped his sword tightly, using it to keep himself upright. His whole body trembled, yet his voice came firm, carrying through the chaos.
"If I fall here…" he said slowly, "then who will protect them? Who will protect the empire?"
He raised his sword. "I swore to be its shield. Even if I die, I'll stand until the end!"
The Legate frowned. "Big words from a dying man."
But something changed.
