''So, How does it feel, elder brother?''
Shifting his gaze away from the closed door to his half brother, Dante merely pursed his lips in silence.
''How does it feel for your loved ones not to reciprocate your love?'' Saying this, Dion began to move from his spot, his boots sweeping through the white snow on the ground.
''How does it feel to have a history like our dear late father?'' At the same time, his fingers curled around the handle of his sword, pulling out the gleaming blade away from its sheathe.
''Tell me, elder brother, how does it feel?!'' Dion exclaimed in anger, his voice echoing through the sturdy trees of the forest.
In contrast to his loudness, Dante remained silent. He merely unsheathed the sword hanging from his waist, the same as Dion had done.
