Pitch dark!
Julius Reed drew his sword and looked around, unable to see anything.
This world, as if it were pure nothingness.
"Dead?" He felt a mix of joy and a hint of loss.
When death truly arrived, Julius Reed found it wasn't the joy he'd imagined.
He had long pursued that which eluded him, envied Gilbert's serene embrace of death...
Could it really come this unexpectedly, without warning?
Yet...
He hadn't seen Isabella Warm yet, hadn't returned to the Ten Thousand Mountain Alliance.
The group that betrayed him had yet to face their reckoning.
Suddenly, Julius Reed realized that he, too, had regrets.
What about Quella Radcliffe?
The two of them hadn't shared a bed yet, hadn't even borne children.
If he lived, he'd make sure to resolve this when he returned.
And Nelson—he'd surely be heartbroken.
Sigh...
His eyes, they were still functional.
At least, he could see his hands.
Beyond his body, though, Julius Reed couldn't see anything else.
