The night passed quickly. All five soldiers remaining soldiers were far too tense to get any proper rest for the rest of the night.
They'd returned to the inn they had checked in to and tried their best to get some rest. Unfortunately, it was all for nothing. Everyone, including Melchior himself, remained awake to some extent.
Melchior lay at the centre of the bed, using the Fallen Angel Circulation technique and thinking at the same time.
Failure was something he'd never enjoyed. Even up till now when he was in this new world, it brought back terrible memories from his time as Dillon. As Dillon, he'd done nothing but fail. Melchior had done nothing but succeed, making him abhor failure.
Both sides of his entire being hated that one thing.
Failure.
His thoughts ran rampant quickly.
What could he do? What would happen if he couldn't complete this mission?
