Clark's POV:
'Is Densdor depriving me of my death? Did I say I wanted to be saved? Who does he think he is to act like a hero at my expense?!'
The anger that had always fizzled out before it grew, burned hotter than ever. The anger masked the intense pain I was feeling, and my body surged with life.
...Or at least that's what I hoped would happen.
But apart from the burning anger, nothing else changed.
My legs were barely functional, my arms were nonexistent, my head felt bare, and my innards were only being supported by mana supplied by [Desperation], and even that would eventually deactivate when the time came.
The anger I fought so hard to fester in my heart slowly fizzled out just like a flame exposed to the wind.
My heartbeat was little more than silence pretending to exist, and frustration gradually piled on it.
Frustration that I couldn't even get myself killed without being saved at the last minute by some force or my involuntary survival instincts.
