I fought like a demon to live.
I survived.

I got lucky and survived this mission, but there’s no guarantee that I’ll survive the next.
Next time, I’m going to be treated as a deserter just like my friends who never returned.
I’m probably going to be fed by crows in valleys while everyone forgets my name.

The smell of blood that forces you to hold your breath!
Hell’s screams that howl from below!

Now, I want to throw everything away and become the wind.
Become the wind, free I fly.