Pete looked back towards the pavilions as a rivulet of blood ran down his lips. There was an expression of disappointment on Rodrick's face. He seemed to have already given up.
The boy licked his lips and shifted his gaze to Raya. She must be glad he was dying since she hated him at first sight.
Surprisingly her eyes were moist. Was she concerned for his well-being? Or was she emotional to see Achilles fight? The latter was more likely.
Pete turned back to his opponent. The hero drew an ornate dagger from his belt. Its hilt was golden and had a sigil similar to his shield.
'A blessed weapon? Great!' Pete told himself sarcastically.
Achilles tilted his head and grinned.
"This should be a moment of joy for you, mortal! Your death will come from my precious dagger. Even if I don't lend it my strength, the blade will pierce through your heart like a hot knife through butter."
The boy began to shift his position.
