"Huh–?" Gael looked over, witnessing a hole bore through the afflicted shoulder, quickly grabbing it as blood squirted out. "...Ghh!"
"It seems I was a bit late. How tragic it is that such dutiful young men have fallen for the sake of their homeland. Worry not; I will give their deaths meaning," a masculine voice spoke in a dejected manner.
As he looked up, holding his wounded shoulder, he found the source of the injury; a figure stood near the tunnel leading deeper into the mines, in a bestial, black cloak with a face hidden behind a dazzling, moonstone skull mask. He recognized that uniform immediately; the gun-like contraption that shot air, the blade extending from the forearm.
"You're one of them," Gael said, squeezing his own wound as frustration bubbled up. "--A Venator."
The melancholic hunter corrected him, "Amadeus, captain of the Orion Squad of the Venator. Don't bother giving your name in return, Outlander. I have no need for the name of a dead man."
