"A delightful war song."
Priest Ferman rolled up his wide sleeves and clenched his large fists, his eyes slightly bloodshot: "Although my faith lies with the Lord and not the ancestors, no orc can suppress the fervor within themselves in such a situation."
Feather Song, standing beside him, glanced at him with a light laugh, her fair face flushed with a touch of red: "Not just orcs, Mr. Priest, even I'm feeling the urge to rush to the front line and clash blades with those rotten corpses."
"We have to thank the Black Vatican Priest."
Priest Ferman chuckled heartily and shrugged: "Although he says any commander could have thought of such a detail, I still sincerely want to praise him."
Feather Song looked at the figure standing with his hands behind his back in the open space of the camp not far away, shaking her head slightly: "It's actually just because he's cowardly."
"Ah?"
"Never mind."
