There was a spectrum of emotions flooding through his mind as he sat in the field that stunk of death, finding crimson having painted portions of the foliage.

He didn’t know the man very long, nor did he share many nice moments with him, but he still felt grief and lamentation–he instantly blamed himself. It was due to his desire to become an adventurer that this person was sent on this journey with him, and why that person was now dead.

Or, so he thought.

Wriggle. Wriggle.

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