Accompanied by death, his shouting expression froze on his face, never realizing that his body had been severed.
Artorias was unharmed; Dal was just too weak.
But the weak could also earn his respect.
"..."
Before the last vestiges of his sanity faded, Artorias planted the broken Fran Greatsword before Dal.
For a warrior, to have a sword as a tombstone was an honor.
Artorias was grateful to Dal, for he brought the most precious thing to him—
"Hope"
Hope is what sustained him to endure the pain and stand guard here.
One day in the future, the Master of the Abyss would be vanquished; his efforts would not be in vain, knowing this was enough, the rest was left to time.
Nevertheless...
Artorias gave a wry smile, thinking to himself:
I really hope the one who can defeat Manus will come soon.
"Ugh..."
A sharp pain surged through him once again, and before he went mad, he dragged his body and disappeared into the jungle.
