One is darkness, two is death.
Believing in faith is like this, no matter how clear-headed you are, you will somewhat believe in it.
The sword wind swept across, the residual light danced, and the one-sided forceful brick flying lasted for about half a minute. Xizor's Dragon Armor was in tatters, and each swing of the Broad Sword was accompanied by a roar for strength.
Without love and bonds, he didn't believe in that, maintaining the habit of the Giant Dragon, trusting that output could rely on roaring.
On the other side, Saine had slaughtered all of Xizor's followers, leaving no survivors, and watched Xizor, who was losing the battle, with deep regret in her heart.
Busy proving oneself, she had early handed over the authority to Wayne. If she had endured a bit longer back then, she would have been in command against Xizor, and with the merit of killing a traitor, the Goddess surely would have forgiven her.
"What, do you regret it?"
