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His breathing grew ragged and heavy. “Haa, haa!”
Blood from his wounds soaked through his clothes.
“Agh.”
Kwon Oh-Jin poured the potion supplied by the False Star Cult onto his injuries.
“Damn it! Even Madecassol[1] would be more effective than this crap.”
He hadn’t expected much from the supplies given to someone like him, a grunt with no title or rank.
Crawling across the ground, Kwon Oh-Jin rifled through the pockets of a fellow cultist whose head had been split open by a Valhalla Guild member’s hammer.
“Well, at least this guy has some decent stuff.”
After pouring another potion on his wounds, he leaned against the cave wall with a heavy sigh.
“It’s already… been half a year.”
It had been six months since he left Song Ha-Eun’s side and became a False Star Cult member. The crushing loneliness of being unable to see her face or hear her voice had been unbearable.
Just a little longer and…
He touched the left side of his chest. Thanks to the Owl Nebula’s blessing, he had mostly healed enough to move again. However, no sign of a Stigma...
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