War had no humanity, no honor, and certainly no morality. Its sole purpose was victory, and killing was an essential means to that end—an eerily cold voice echoed faintly in his ears. His right hand suddenly twitched, and Roland quickly let go of the grip, clutching his right wrist with his left hand, pouring all his strength into suppressing the bone-deep chill and spasms.
Strain—breathe;
Strain—breathe;
Strain—breathe;
After repeating this three times, the maggot-like chill attached to his bones receded, along with the unpleasant memories, and his sweat-drenched face returned to calmness.
Opening and then clenching his fist again, Roland confirmed he was ready to resume sniping and shook his head at the Spider offering him a pill.
The battle had entered its final stage. Success hinged wholly on what was both the initial and perhaps the final strike. In order to increase the likelihood of success, no stone was left unturned.
