Shimmering, colorful lights danced in the air, countless glowing orbs danced like the dust mites sprinkled by the flap of a butterfly's wing. But, unlike the dust mites swirling in the wind, in the midst of a fierce confrontation storm, these globes of light disregarded the continuous explosions of particle beams and shockwaves, stubbornly swirling into a vortex surrounding the white armored body.
"What kind of light is this...?"
At the heart of this odd phenomenon, facing the clusters of light that appeared out of nowhere, Roland couldn't help but mutter under his breath.
It was as if the whole scene was a satirical painting lacking in realism. In the midst of a battleground where approaching it could cost a life, a spectacle emerged radiating with beauty and warmth that words couldn't describe. What almost made him scream out was the resonating "sounds" he could feel under the light.
I don't want to die;
I want to survive;
I want to reunite with my family;
