At the age of sixteen, he should have been doing something meaningful, yet he cluelessly ended up in the ratmen cave, and now he found himself on a Campbell stretcher.
Perhaps the citizens of Roland City would find a thousand reasons why he deserved his downfall; he didn't wish to argue, only to send regards to the mother of Your Majesty.
Perhaps his curse was so blasphemous that it lost Saint Sis's sympathy; the expressionless Priest merely glanced at him before leaving.
"No saving him."
He vaguely heard those words.
Indeed, a rotten life.
Hart wasn't surprised by this, already satisfied to have escaped the ratmen cave, accepting the inevitable if he couldn't survive.
It was said that dying at the hands of the ratmen not only meant your body would be crushed into mush but also that the remains would somehow merge with Ryan's Nobles.
That fate terrified him more than his soul naturally dispersing into the world.
