[The Fifth World, Day Eight]
Below the city walls, the army was ready to march.
A sea of heads pressed together like waves, various armors and weapons gleamed different colors in the early morning light.
Everything was silent, save for the sound of windblown sand scraping against the ground, a stark contrast to the previous chaos of the large bandit gang.
On everyone's face was a hint of joy, and their eyes shone brighter than before.
...All because of a glowing pattern mark on their hands.
It was a source they once yearned for but could never attain, the hope they desperately sought.
In just one night, under a simple array, everyone's wishes were fulfilled.
"—Our city is in danger,"
All of a sudden, a resonant female voice rang out from atop the walls, a black ponytail swaying slightly in the sandy wind.
"—Both the imposter army and the demon beasts are eyeing us with covetous intent."
