Once the swords passed through his neck, the head of the former leader of the Larson Grand Duchy rolled onto the platform, blood flowing from the severed wound.
Clark, who had remained motionless until now, finally showed some expression as his eyes trembled at the sight of his father's head.
He then turned to look at Carol as she approached and took her place beside him. His focus was solely on her, and the sounds of his surroundings became nothing more than muffled noise.
It finally dawned on him—he was next.
"Carol, f-forgive me. I'm really sorry, but I truly couldn't do anything at that time," Clark pleaded, his eyes searching Carol's face for mercy.
However, all he saw was a cold, unyielding expression—void of even the slightest compassion.
Without hesitation, she raised her sword high above her head, ready to strike.
"No, no, Carol! Listen to me—"
Swiiish!
