"We can't continue like this," Sheyla said, sitting next to him. "We'll be overwhelmed soon. Challengers are barely holding the barricades. Our numbers are dwindling by the passing minutes. Hobs are coming from every corner of the cathedral. The earth wall you've placed at the main entrance will be broken soon enough. Even the belltower's stairs are flooded. If we don't do anything in the next ten minutes, we'll—hey, are you listening?"
Cries of help.
Screams of pain.
Pleadings for salvation.
Aito heard them all. He had never seen such scenery before. While fighting, he remained oblivious to this grim scene. In fact, he had always done so. Drunk on the battle, Aito had never truly paid attention to the bloody consequences of a fight.
During his time fighting the sect members. In the tunnels with the slaves. He had grown accustomed to death, but still tried to avoid thinking about such misery.
