Yakuza dropped beside Sylvara's body, his hands trembling as he pulled her cold, lifeless form into his arms.
He held onto her tightly, refusing to let go, as if she might still come back. His shrill cry tore through the battlefield and rose toward the heavens above, carrying with it all the overwhelming agony ripping through his soul.
It felt like something had been ripped out of his chest.
Like his heart had been hollowed out and left empty. And though the cry that left his throat was loud and piercing…
No tears came. It dawned on him that his companions had truly died. No matter what he did, her body remained cold and unmoving in his arms.
Slowly, he lifted his blood-red gaze toward the hulking, four-armed demon. His eyes looked like they were bleeding.
"I will kill you!" Yakuza screamed as he pushed himself to his feet, unsheathing his sword.
And then he charged without a care for his own life. He screamed as he rushed forward, his grief and rage pouring into every step.
