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A sword pierced through my chest. The faces of my classmates, gleeful as if they had finally accomplished it.

I had sensed that this would occur sooner or later. I was neither intelligent nor capable. I, who had failed to get strong enough, lacked the capability to resist the machinations of a single kingdom. Thus I had prepared myself. However, the agony of a sword thrust into your heart was unbearable, even if you anticipated it.

Each time I cried out in pain, each time I groaned silently, many of my classmates chuckled.

You deserved this, we never liked you, it’d be better if you never existed. If those words didn’t reach my heart, would their desire for revenge be fulfilled? If I looked back at them with a wry smile would that make them reconsider?

That was all for naught, as they seemed to be satisfied with the sounds I was making. It hurt, it was painful, challenging, frightening, and I couldn’t stop myself.

Although I’d been prepared, the fear of death held a tight grip over me. The pain was excruciating, and death approached stealthily. The depths of my heart grew cold, and I gradually lost myself.

I screamed for help, but no one came. I wanted to yell from fear, but no words escaped my mouth.

In my fading consciousness, the last sight I beheld was a beautiful blonde woman. Her beautiful face, the one that had captured everyone’s attention when we had been summoned here, twisted sinisterly.

My disappearing spirit seemed to have found satisfaction at that moment.