"Your foolishness knows no bounds," Han Gyeong narrowed his eyes as he gripped his son's neck. "You should know not to face a battle you couldn't win."
Han Joon had countless nicks, bites, and slash wounds all over his body; a testament to the mountain of hounds corpses behind him. He barely had any energy left, his wires had lost their durability after a hundred hounds, and he could feel the heaviness from the accumulated corrosion.
But even then, as he had his father's fingers around his neck, his lips parted into a smile, and there was no sign of defeat in his eyes.
He had used to this; so used to have those fingers hurting him. Long had he given up on any semblance of fatherly love, and when he knew there was none left, he did not feel the slightest disappointment.
"How weird," he said, gripping Han Gyeong's arm to lessen the pressure on his neck. "I thought...the teaching of our people was...to never give up on fighting for what we know is right."
