Lind sat cross-legged on the ground, his left hand holding a bowl that, to others, would probably be considered small, which contained piping hot meat soup. The steam rising from the soup became even more prominent after a shower had lowered the temperature.
In his right hand, he held a large piece of dry, hard bread.
Although he was not afraid of flames, that did not mean he could drink scalding hot soup without any expression.
He gently blew on the soup, took a sip from the edge, and then bit fiercely into the bread.
No one had the right to waste food, this was the apocalypse after all.
His teeth were like steel trap jaws, quickly chopping up the hard bread before swallowing it with a "gulping" sound as his cheeks puffed.
Every soldier skilled in combat had a good appetite, and the Great Knight was among the best. Strength didn't appear out of nowhere.
