The sensation of death was slowly paralyzing his entire body. Within his fading vision, strangely enough, not a single face of the enemies he had killed or a lingering image of the endless missions came to mind.

Piercing through the darkening sight and the throbbing pain of the wound in his lower abdomen, only the afterimage of one person came pouring in.

The awkward smile you wore when you first met, your voice grumbling over something trivial, even the raindrops falling from the edge of the umbrella you shared on a rainy day. Vivid scenes, like moments from a movie, flashed by, forcing Shishiba's cooling heart to beat.

On the final page of this life-flashing-before-his-eyes moment, which felt like a death sentence, the existence of Guest was written all over it.

"Ah... So it's true what they say about seein' all sorts of things before ya kick the bucket."

He chuckled softly, lightly wiping the corner of his mouth with a blood-stained hand. The grip on his hammer gradually loosened. His inner thoughts, which he would never have uttered under normal circumstances, flowed out helplessly before the giant shadow of death.

"Since it's come to this... I'd sure like to see ya just one last time."

He muttered lowly, staring blankly up at the night sky.