⚔️Serberia

Veserod slipped into the darkness. This time, he had really messed up. The first arrow hit as usual – in the heart, but that part of the hunter’s body was already so scarred that he didn’t even feel it. It was impossible to remove the arrow, so he hit it with his fist, causing it to pass through and pulled it out by the tip from his back. But the second and third... They hit his arm and leg. Unable to continue the fight, Veserod slid to the floor and silently bled out. At one point, he began to feel an unpleasant, gradually growing, all-consuming sense of impending disaster. His vision blurred, his ears rang, and the dying man was covered in sweat. On the verge of consciousness, he could distinguish cries – people were screaming in pain and anger, and Kalentia was giving orders instead of him. "They are in good hands," Veserod nodded to himself, though only in his mind, because by that time he had already lost the ability to control his body. Unable to cope with the blurred vision and the cacophony of sounds caused by the gradual dying of his brain due to blood loss from his mortal wounds, Veserod muttered with cold, numb lips: "May my ancestors forgive me... May my brothers and sisters forgive me... Forgive me, grandfather... B... B... Britt... Is that you?" It seemed to him that a woman from Baldur was leaning over him, but it was the dying Esghif, clutching his pierced belly and collapsing next to him. Veserod tried to raise his hand to hug her, but he couldn't. "She carries my... my child... P...p...please..." The hunter didn't finish the sentence because it turned out to be too difficult, but he hoped that at least someone would hear his last words. "D...deliver... my... seed... to Gerda..." Veserod began to lose consciousness and desperately tried to say everything he could before it was too late, no matter how absurd it was. "To Shi...no... N...n...n... ... ... find... brother and sister..." He would have liked to say more – take care of grandfather and Yue, of Eznir and Gregor, of his sheep, Diana and Nikita, and many other things, but the gangrene from his arm and leg had already spread throughout his body and did not let him finish. The last thought, inappropriately flashing in his dying consciousness, was: "It's good that I didn't eat anything today."