Tycon emerged from the shadows as he approached the ruined man lying in a pool of his own blood.

Barza looked up with tearful eyes at the green-haired youth. "Sir Tycon..."

It was over. He did well. He would finally be praised, "May I have... Your permission... To..."

Barza's consciousness was fading fast. He struggled to voice his final wish. He had only made it this far thanks to Tycon's training. He desperately yearned for the cold-hearted man's approval, to be granted permission to die. Only then would he be able to find peace in the afterlife.

Tycon glared down, his face contorted in disgust. "Permission denied."

⟬ An excerpt from the exploits of Leader Tycondrius of Guild Invictus, circa 1014 YK ⟭