"Puhaahk!"
Back inside the Hawkin Group Headquarters, an ashen-haired young man wearing a white half-dragon mask coughed up a fair amount of blood—a golden rapier light slowly fading from the harrowing wound on his right waist.
For the first time in a long while, Shye had suffered significant injuries at the hands of a fellow human.
He glared resentfully at the six remaining Hawklings, especially Leffen.
How he wished he could strangle and slap the bastard to death.
Unfortunately, his priority was keeping both himself and Sanada alive.
He had tried countless times to send the unconscious geezer back to headquarters using various organizational scrolls and talismans.
But the damned Hawklings were just too prepared for this moment, and none of those methods worked—either jammed by some sort of device or interrupted by Dweezel's bastards.
He must hold on until Sanada wakes.
