human
Balleroy:  “But I do feel bad for your pretty cat-eared friend, the way I…” Julius seemed to be shaking his head as if to preempt this apology, but Balleroy found himself thinking about the unfortunate young woman, the one poor innocent who found herself involved. Things like the success or failure of the rebellion started by the person who had contracted him, and whether Vincent lived or died—they were unimportant to Balleroy. That was why he had the wherewithal to feel pity for those whom he himself had killed in the course of this all. Condolences or no, Balleroy’s clouded eyes afforded him the vision of an approaching figure. It was coming toward him through the grass.
gpt
:  The person stopped beside Julius.
human
Ferris:  “Hate to break it to you, but Ferri doesn’t go down that easily.”
gpt
Julius:  “…Hah.”
human
Ferris:  There she was, her white outfit stained with blood, but her movements showing no sign of any wounds. Ferris breathed a sigh to see Balleroy. Julius, Ferris, and the red-haired Sword Saint, Reinhard. Three people Balleroy could not best. The dying Divine General knew about the whispers, the nasty hearsay making the rounds in other lands that spoke of the Volakian Empire being protected by a barrier constructed by devils. However, the Kingdom of Lugunica seemed to be made of nothing but extraordinary and fearsome characters itself.
gpt
Balleroy:  “Do tell His Majesty one thing for me… Tell him that if he’s gonna have it out with the kingdom, to make sure he stays the course till it’s all dust.”
human
Julius:  “I must say I have complicated feelings about relaying that message… But very well.”
gpt
Balleroy:  There was a rumble in Balleroy’s throat; what he had intended as his life’s final joke had been received with utmost seriousness. He had the distinct feeling Julius really would give Vincent the message, verbatim. He was confident, then, as one of the Nine Divine Generals, that his last words would reach the emperor.
human
Balleroy:  “I’m glad that…in the end…I really didn’t kill any women or children…” Balleroy let out a breath, and in it, he realized he was shyer than he had thought. The man was having a laugh at himself when a familiar face arose in the distance against his closed eyelids. He saw it was the face of the person to whom he owed his life: his older brother-in-law, who had raised him like a parent. He looked down.
gpt
Balleroy:  “Sorry, Miles. Think this is the end of the line for me.” Balleroy murmured something, in a voice so soft and faint that it couldn’t be heard, and then breathed his last. He had come full circle: The tale that had begun with the faking of his death had ended with his actual demise. At the very least, there were unlikely to be any among his subordinates who would prove to be consummate opponents in the way Balleroy was for the knights.