.
.
.
—-------------
/A few minutes before…/
"Hum…"
Wuril's father, the last Division commander, sat on a wooden box as he stood still, his hollow eyes open as he seemingly stared at nothing for several minutes on end at a time.
Just as his appearance might suggest, he looked as if he was about to die.
And albeit that may be the truth, right now, he had no such plans for his already overdue death.
He didn't even wore any armor or anything that might suggest he was a fighter, though expecting that out of him might've been too much.
Even if old people tended to be stronger due to the experience, this old man already went beyond that.
'This isn't good.' He thought without blinking
'At this rate, not only we'll fail at our original objective, but we'll also die in the process.'
'And with us, everything I stood for in these 90 years will vanish also.'
