Harry stared down at Adolf's barely conscious figure, the faint remnants of a smirk still dancing on his lips.
He wasn't surprised the man was still clinging to life—not after all the desperate strength he had shown earlier.
But there was something… interesting about the silence now, something that pulled at Harry's thoughts and narrowed his eyes.
"Hmm," he muttered, a strange glint flashing in his gaze.
He crouched once again, lowering himself beside the smoldering wreckage of what had once been Adolf Rashin.
The heat around the man's body was intense, his scorched flesh still hissing softly as it cooled against the blackened earth.
Harry didn't flinch. He reached forward and gently placed a hand on Adolf's head, fingers threading through the ash-coated strands of what was left of his singed hair.
"You probably still believe your mission is so holy," he whispered, voice laced with disdain. "Colluding with demons… how disgusting."
