My breathing became uneven, and my vision blurred into fragments of red and shadow as I watched Lyle and Gioffre locked in a desperate, lethal dance.
I barely registered the clash of steel and the anguished shouts—they reverberated in my mind like a broken record of betrayal. Every muscle in my body screamed for escape as I kept stepping backward, caught between horror and shock.
"No… Lyle…" I tried to scream, the word strangled in my throat.
I wanted to confess that it was Samael who had attacked me, that his treachery had left me wounded—and that I could no longer bear these betrayals. But my voice failed me.
Then Lyle's strained voice cut through the chaos, "He disguised himself as Samael!" he yelled, struggling against the man on his left.
"He was the one who attacked you!" His words jolted me as my already fevered pulse hammered in my ears. Fatigue overtook my limbs, and my body collapsed onto the nearby bed with a soft thud.
