"Last time you robbed Oshaye of his account, you were dead before I even finished settling it, you beast?"

Heimer suppressed the sadness in his chest. He was so angry that his hands were shaking.

In the past, Pokhara would have suddenly gotten angry and punched him in the cheek, making him look like stars.

But Pokhara didn't respond to him, and his bloodshot blue eyes looked up aimlessly at the sky imprisoned by the firelight.

"Drink...haha!!"

Heimer's face was flushed, turning purple. He was panting violently and exhaling loudly, as if the person he was pinching was actually himself.

Pokhara was indifferent, but the smelly tongue stretched out longer. In this way, Heimer didn't know what this guy who had always been full of only spitting shit was going to say.

After all, this bastard is really dead.

"It's true...dead..."

Heimer's hands ran out of strength.

He understood that this was not a dream.

There was no time to reminisce with the dead. Even if he added a few more punches to that ugly rotten face and knocked out a few loose teeth, nothing could be restored.

This man was the person he most wanted to duel with before he was alive. Before going to the battlefield, he even fought with this man, and the legion commander personally punished him for this.

"There's no point... bastard!"

Heimer let go of his hands, closed the eyes of the soldier with whom he had a bad relationship during his lifetime, and then laid the bastard's body flat.

"Go well, even though you deserve to go to hell."

Heimer, who was still unable to stand up, beat his left chest, bent slightly, and gave a military salute to the man's body. Although Heimer did not recognize Bokara's personality, he also admitted that this man was indeed an outstanding person in life.

warrior.

Yes, he once wanted to kill this despicable and shameless villain. Now that this person is dead, not only is he not happy at all, he even feels sad for this person's death.

Since he is dead, he must give this man the respect he deserves.

Heimer straightened his sore knees, and after a while, he staggered to his feet. Once he had a good balance with his shoulders tilted, he raised his head and looked around.

As far as the eye can see, there are only broken swords and broken halberds, and the setting sun.

In this desolate land, the dead bodies of the soldiers of their Bardafenr Legion are everywhere... The soldiers wearing familiar military emblems sleep in this soil dyed red by fire and blood.

"Are they all... dead?"

Looking around, he didn't find a figure standing upright like him. In this dead land, there was only the crackling sound of charcoal and flesh being burned by the flames. His vision was distorted by the fire, and even the sky was distorted by this.

The flames rising everywhere were tinged with red.

Heimer tried to look at the other corpses. Unknowingly, the strength of his limbs was taken away. The pair of increasingly weak knees could not support the increasingly heavy body.

Bang!

He knelt down, his knees on the dead earth.

"Basha, Luo Man, Komosa... you are all dead..."

He fell back and lay flat on his back, using his last strength to scratch the hard ground with his hands. This was a way to vent the pain and unwillingness in his heart.

There was pain in his hands, and only the pain spreading throughout his body could make him clearly realize that he was really still alive.

The broken fingernails were filled with brown soil, and the corners of his eyes were filled with salty and bitter moisture. Whenever his moist eyes wanted to shed tears, Heimer sniffed his sour nose, but he did not let the tears leave his eyes.

"No matter what... in the blink of an eye..."

He was a warrior and a man. Heimer knew that tears could not alleviate his grief, and he would only be laughed at for his weakness by those guys playing in heaven.

The heat on the surface has begun to dissipate, but the heat on the ground still makes the back of the head feel as hot and muggy as sticking to the belly of a horse.

He had just checked the other corpses, and they were all familiar to him. Now, Heimer no longer had the strength or courage to continue. He just wanted to lie down like this and sleep here like those who could never get up.

"God...am I abandoned?"

He felt abandoned...

Abandoned by these people; abandoned by this land; abandoned by... God.

Suddenly, he remembered what the sergeant with three scars on his face said during the recruit's speech: As a soldier walking on the line between life and death, you should get used to death. You should be grateful to God every second you breathe.

Bless.

But is this really something you can “get used to”?

Yes, he was lucky to survive. But he only felt that this was punishment, so how could he be grateful?

"You bastard! Let me hum if you can breathe!!"

clang!

He drew his sword and stuck it on the ground. The stainless steel blade pried the dry soil, making a clanging sword sound. Heimer leaned on the sword blade, leaving rows of deep footprints on the red land.

Heimer couldn't accept it, and his heart was full of confusion and confusion.

How long had he been unconscious?

What happened between the time he was in coma and when he woke up?

Whose "masterpiece" is this fiery purgatory?
Chapter completed!