This time, the Royal Corpse never stood up again and fell completely into a pool of blood.
Whether in life or death, its face bore a strange smile. Even after Charles destroyed its body, that chill lingered.
It was over. Everything was over.
Charles lowered Flandre, and they silently watched the burning flames, the atmosphere heavy with somberness.
The death of a comrade deeply affected Flandre. If Johann had died fighting alongside them, he would have been sad, but not this despondent.
Because his death would have had value, a value he believed in.
But not like this, being swallowed whole by an overpowered monster, not even able to utter a sound before death.
"Flandre, you need to understand something: the Continent of Overlord is not a gift to us. If you are weak, it's easy to be torn apart in this meat grinder of a world." Charles said, patting Flandre on the shoulder, his tone heavy.
