[Your contractor Gaal has died.]
The announcement echoed in Cliff's mind, a cold whisper slipping into his thoughts.
Sitting in the meeting room, he remained motionless, his gaze lost in the void, his breath suspended.
Around him, the tactical discussions and strategic debates continued without interruption, as if nothing had changed.
Yet, for Cliff, everything had just shifted.
He didn't know Gaal intimately; in fact, he struggled to even remember his face. But the mere fact that this world informed him of one of his men's deaths in such a mechanical and impersonal manner shook him to his core.
Gaal might have been an Awakened or just an ordinary soldier, one of the countless anonymous warriors who made up his troops. Cliff had never taken the time to learn the names of all those he forged soul contracts with.
It had never seemed important before. But at that moment, the reality of his indifference felt terribly cruel.
