Darius sat on a sofa across Dorothea's bed. His eyes fueled with resentment upon seeing how Roger was so pampered by his mother. Although she was nearly dead from the brutal torture, she's still showering her sole son with love and affection.
He held the Anti-Mage sword in front of him, resting his right palm on the hilt while his left was on his right hand, pondering whether he should kill them all or not.
"Mother, I am so sorry. I shouldn't have left the mansion and abide by your words." Roger sobbed, kneeling beside his mother's bed.
"Roger, my boy…" Hearing his voice, Dorothea opened her eyes lazily. She was shocked upon seeing her son have lost his right hand. His wrist was tightly bandaged with linen cloth. Dorothea might have battered in wounds but her instinct to protect her son is still burning strong in her eyes. "What happened to your right hand? Who did this to you?!"
