The second Chaos fell backward at this time, Mason shrank back into the trench, laughing and praising the sharpshooter behind him while dumping the spent casings from the nest and loading bullets into the revolver one by one.
After loading the bullets, Mason prepared to go to the left defensive line, but before walking away, out of professional reflex, he calculated for himself one last time.
·Have they come?
·Mason! Run! No! Too late!
The third time Mason heard the voice he was stunned for a moment, because he remembered... It was his own voice from childhood, his inspiration was warning him, and he... had never thought of it.
His consciousness was disturbed, and so was his divination—he held the bracelet in his hand motionless, then it suddenly began pointing to Mason's right side of the trench.
Mechanically turning his head, Mason looked towards the far end of the trench, where at the bend, a white-haired middle-aged man slowly came into view.
