The streets were a dark crimson.
It was as if countless buckets of paint had been haphazardly spilled, coloring the roads and houses in large, arbitrary patches.
And if this dried dark red were indeed paint, then the brushes… could only be the scattered severed limbs.
Ansel stood at the edge of the street, looking down at the lower district, which resembled a spiral hell.
He had no idea what plans and arrangements Marlina had made, but it was clear that... her plan had spiraled out of control.
Regardless of her temperament, Marlina had never erred in her judgment. She would never allow a riot she had instigated to escalate to such an extent.
Ravenna, her expression cold, resisted the urge to rush in and treat the wounded, rubbing her temples vigorously.
"Whatever is going on… summoning the extraordinary beings of the Whistling Legion to treat them, will that interfere with your plans?"
