When he reopened his eyes, the room's ravaged furniture he had ignored prior met his eyes. The once elegant beds, wardrobe, and desk became nothing more than rough splitters covering the cracked floor. Glistening shards reflected the moon's glow as the night's wind blew through the glassless windows.
His attention drawn by a glint, he turned, noticing a gladius piercing through the wall and a trail of bloodstains leading to the outside.
'Despite the unfair odds and numerical disadvantage, Julius fought fiercely,' he thought, his head moving up and down in approbation.
He knew the blood came from the enemy since the boy's clothes were untouched when he last saw him. The dried blood covering the gladius proved it, too. The realisation made him puff his chest in pride as he retrieved the weapon.
"Huff... huff..."
Before he could ponder how incredible Julius had become, an individual's ragged breathing shattered his thought process.
