The pale flames were burning, and within the gray-white ruins, two different sounds were rising and falling.
Roger gasped heavily, clutching the hideous wound on his chest. The great sword had nearly torn half his body apart, burning bones and organs in the fierce fire, yet the undying flesh stubbornly proliferated, pulling and healing.
His vision was stained red by blood, turning blurry. He couldn't see the path ahead clearly but could still sense Lorenzo's escalating intensity of erosion. To kill the demon, he eventually stepped into the darkness.
Just a little further, just a bit closer...
Roger smiled, for he would show Lorenzo the greatest existence in the world.
But soon, the approaching sounds interrupted Roger's thoughts. The sounds were complex — the noise of burning flames, the friction of metal dragging on the ground, and low panting; vaguely, the howling of a pack of wolves could be heard as if hungry wolves crawled out from the shadows.
