The lone survivor in white and gray stood in the middle of the clearing, still blinded. He fruitlessly slashed left and right in a vain attempt to kill an enemy that was no longer there. “You can stop stabbing the air; he’s gone. There is no danger now,” said Komir. When the soldier heard his voice, he stopped thrusting and lowered his sword. Panting and thoroughly exhausted, he leaned forward, supporting himself on his weapon. A few seconds later he dropped his sword and fell to his knees, his quick and heavy breathing loud enough to be heard from under his helmet. Komir looked at Hartz and saw he was still lying on the ground, writhing in pain. “Are you all right? Say something, friend! Hasn’t the pain stopped?” he questioned very concerned. Unable to speak a single word, Hartz just looked at his friend and shook his head as he groaned in pain and clutched at his chest. He could not understand where the pain was coming from.
