Zania's eyes fluttered open.
Her body ached, and her pride burned. But worst of all—
She was bound.
Thick vines coiled tightly around her, restricting her movement. She gritted her teeth.
This man. This Armand noble. He had defeated her with ease, and she didn't even know his name. One thing was painfully clear—
She hated him.
She didn't care if he killed her; she was an Amazarak warrior. Death? She accepted it.
But—
Torture? Her stomach twisted at the thought.
She recalled Kenjirou's words: "The Armand nobles enjoy torturing their prisoners. They take pleasure in watching people suffer."
A shiver coursed through her despite her resolve.
Are they bringing me to Garius… to torture me?
Her breath quickened. She wouldn't beg. She wouldn't plead. But deep inside—
She loathed this feeling of helplessness.
And the worst part? She still had no idea what this man planned to do with her.