"Live... or die?"
Even as his heart was filled with negative emotions, a droplet of cold sweat trickled down Yarad's pale face.
Of course, he didn't want to die.
If possible, he would rather see the young man before him... no, the three people in front of him all drop dead.
He didn't care if the other person was a savior, or if the Source World would be saved because of them; anyone who wanted his life had to die.
But Yarad was very clear that this was merely a delusion.
At least, resentment and imagination alone were useless.
"... No matter what, I am the supreme commander of the Libion Duchy. With the King seriously ill now, my status is even higher than that of a royal family member."
"The people adore me greatly and hope that I will become the first saint in the nation's history."
"Do you dare to kill me?"
Yarad spoke these words with a feigned bravado, as he cradled his broken arm and slowly stepped back.
