Everything was a disaster. You, your enemies, your friends... Everything. The most of them are even died.

You were lying among the rubble, trying to escape although you simply couldn't do it anymore. Your body screamed to flee, but your throat was tight with despair and your legs were almost paralyzed by fear.

There, Elizabeth stepped on a part of the rubble in front of you as if it were a step, while she drew her sword, which shone furiously in the night light, combining with the small flames that the battle had caused.

"Say your last words. Quickly."

Elizabeth said ruthlessly, placing her sword just a few millimeters from your neck. You felt like a simple breeze of air would push the sword, leading to your end. Your life depended on your words... Or maybe even that wouldn't help.

In short: your life depended on a fucking thread.