Marcius looked down at the field of blood below him and let out a deep breath.
He was standing at the top of the wall of Castle Kerth, watching the death and destruction resulting from the siege. It was a bloody thing and a terrible thing.
Yet it was also unavoidable in this situation.
In truth, Maricus was no stranger to battles where soldiers and cultivators tore into each other and tried to end their enemy's existence with all they had. Ever since Marcius woke up from the poison-induced coma, it had been battle after battle and struggle after struggle.
The Sergia clan, the Flavic expedition, the bandit uprising, and now, this.
So, why was Maricus feeling especially mournful about the siege of Castle Kerth?
Even as he asked himself that question, Marcius knew the answer all the same. Deep down, in his heart, he could not lie to himself.
It was a simple… what if.
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