After confirming that Mitsuhide was truly dead, a heavy silence settled over the ruined shrine grounds.
His final warning still lingered in the air, ugly and unsettling, but Nathan had little room left in himself to dwell on it. He stood upright only by force, one hand gripping Kyomei as if the black blade alone kept him from dropping back to his knees. His face had gone pale beneath the sweat, and there was a strain in his expression that even he could not fully hide anymore.
Setting aside the venom still burning through his body, using Pandora's curses in this condition had pushed him even further past what he should have endured.
A thin trail of blood slipped from the corner of his mouth and fell onto the snow still scattered across the ground from Yukihime's earlier attacks, staining the white in bright red drops.
Then he felt a hand gently lift his chin.
