In the dark, oppressive confines of the dungeon where Tristan had been imprisoned for what felt like an eternity, he was slowly succumbing to his wounds. The air was stale, and the lack of light made it impossible for him to tell whether it was day or night; all he knew was that every moment was filled with torment.
"Do you want to die for nothing, just to protect your leader who may not even remember you?" a voice sneered, dripping with malice.
Tristan gasped for breath, his chest rising and falling erratically, but his resolve remained steadfast. He had endured this agony countless times, each time responding with the same defiance.
"I truly don't know. If I die, it won't be in vain!" he replied, his voice trembling but defiant.
"Stubborn fool!" The torturer's voice was a low growl.
