CLANG
"Ah!" His eyes flew open, heart pounding against his chest.
The heir of the Vermillion house had felt this kind of fear frequently—since that day.
"Fuu…" He drew in a shaky breath, pushing himself upright, only to realize his shirt clung to him, soaked with sweat.
He was one of the few who had survived that nightmare.
Not as a fighter. Not even as a participant. Just a bystander caught in the crowd.
Yet he had seen it all—men and women cut down before his eyes, Tower Members turning on each other like rabid beasts, children crushed in the chaos. Worst of all, he had felt the hollow weight of complete helplessness.
Rising from the bed, his legs heavy, he drifted toward the window.
Down in the backyard, his sister stood quietly watering the plants, her figure a fragile calm in the morning light.
He exhaled, long and weary, before changing his shirt and heading downstairs.
