Even as Ascon begged for mercy, Ghislain’s fists did not stop. Gradually, Ascon’s mind began to fog.

*Why am I even being beaten like this?*

The line between dream and reality blurred as the pain started to fade.

*Ah, finally. It doesn’t hurt anymore. Of course, no matter how well he hits, anyone would’ve passed out by now. Ha! In the end, I won. I won!*

As he drifted toward unconsciousness, an elegant middle-aged elf appeared before his eyes.

*Grandfather!*

It was his grandfather, someone he’d only ever seen in old portraits. He’d passed away around a hundred years ago.