Five knife wounds

  Tear the messenger's face

  His eye is gouged out,

  His throat opens like a waterfall without a boat;

  But rather a red puddle with clots.

  He collapses like a worldly building.

  He struggles to move his lips, but a weak word comes out.

  "... Damn..."

  Habib furiously grabs the weak, wrongly murderous hand.

  "Go to hell, you bastard! We were going to be rich and full!

  * Did you sell your daughter for gold?

  Did you really do that, Habib? I don't recognize you anymore!

  * We could have changed things from the inside with our convictions!

  * Pfft, we only get exhaustion and betrayal from the nobles.

  Frankly, if that's how you're going to end up, why did you follow me that day?

  * You're serious, Ruh, how can you say that to me!"

  Habib's second hand rests on his brother's shoulder.

  "Enough!" Laetitia yells, "You're not going to betray each other?!

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  * Yes! Let me go!

  To think we were from the same roof...

  Habib... You disappoint me greatly,

  Like the butterfly that has faith

  In the light that will slowly kill it."

  Ruh tries to free his weak hand,

  His body is almost skin and bones,

  He is as gray as death that comes early,

  A one-sided struggle breaks out within them.

  Two brothers tearing each other apart,

  One for the love of his daughter,

  The other for an easier life.

  "Habib, I'm your older brother so listen!

  Get out of the way and let me finish my fight!"

  Ruh pulls,

  Pulls,

  Pulls.

  His hand tears,

  Tears,

  Tears.

  He lets out a cry of agony and savagely throws himself around.

  A mixture of putrefied blood and pus flows viscously from his arm.

  Ruh's screams echo throughout the outpost as much as the spread of his blood.

  He feels an even more voracious pain running through his veins like an ungrateful worm.

  "My arm! My arm!"

  Ruh cries out in despair.

  He is alone with his suffering as the only king.

  He begins to cry helplessly.

  No one sympathizes, they all watch him... Such is the indifference of people.

  Such is the indifference of people.

  Indeed, we are all a potential Ruh.

  He falls on the sand.

  Black.