The chilly moonlight fell on the top of Storm Fortress City, illuminating the busy figures.
After piling the last piece of dark stone, Mark wiped his sweat and noticed that his hands were stained with ink-like blackness.
He looked towards his companions, who were amusingly blackened from head to toe as well.
The whistle for assembly sounded, and Mark hurriedly relinquished his thoughts and joined the line.
After assembling, a group of people were led to dine.
Upon reaching the dining spot, Mark realized the location was seemingly secluded and quiet. However, the pleasant aroma of meat soup shrouded his senses, forcing him to forget any further thoughts. He positioned himself in the queue and began to estimate the number of people ahead of him, contemplating whether there would still be pieces of meat left when his turn came...
There was indeed a piece of meat left!
