In the barracks before a sortie, tension always lingers.
Survival was the supreme task for all living beings. There was no creature free from the issues of life and death, and this applied to the man as well.
Because he feared ‘failure.’
He wasn’t afraid of putting an end to his wretched life. But after the man died, what would become of the world?
That sense of mission was the only driving force moving the man. Even though he was utterly exhausted, and his other emotions had long since worn away.
In this way, struggle overwhelms all emotions. There probably exists no place where such a cold silence flows as in a military camp before battle.
The man thought so.
At least until a little while ago.
A chilling silence flowed among the five women. Especially the ones frowning were the ‘Silver Saintess’ and the ‘junior sister,’ and the two women’s hostility was openly directed toward Emma.
It was understandable.
‘Slut,’ after all—it was a derogatory term where not even a trace of courtesy could be felt.
Yet, the perpetrator of that rudeness was still smiling brightly. A discrepancy large enough to cause dissonance, and moreover, unlike that smiling face, not a bit of goodwill could be felt in the woman’s eyes.
If it held a sinister light,…