As the fuse hissed continuously, Arthur, who had been standing still, now charged directly towards the beggar.
Arthur had always feared death.
Who wouldn't fear death?
Even the heroes of legend feared death, yet they chose to face it, and so they were called heroes.
That courage to confront death directly was the most beautiful of praises!
Arthur couldn't reach that level, nor did he possess such a state.
He simply felt that since he couldn't live, he might as well take the one responsible for his death down with him.
It was that simple.
There was no noble sentiment.
There was no sublime virtue.
It might even cause innocent casualties.
But Arthur did not regret it!
He stared intently at the beggar, at the hand that was about to plunge into his chest.
Then...
He saw fear!
He saw fear in the eyes of the beggar!
Not fear of him!
Not even fear of the explosives he carried!
But of a marionette!
