Garen kept observing the changes in the sky as he left the War Guild.
Huge numbers of White Dragonhawks and Giant Hawks were battling with the creatures and corpses would plummet from the sky from time to time.
The streets were completely empty as most of the citizens had gone to defend the borders. Only a few people remained in the center of the inner city.
A melody of harp music drifted from Garen’s right. It was a middle age man with a freckled face. He was giving his all to a performance that no one was listening to.
"Life is like a water splash without the foam, clear and paradoxical. What is the purpose of the war when I hear the sadness of the Iron Tank City during its night. I could clearly hear the creatures scream in the wee hours. Ahh~~~ The blood is red and it is so thick… Yet tears are colorless and so thin… Life, where it could bloom a cursed flower, could also bloom a pure lily. Ahh~~ Will you please tell me if the beauty eventually dies…"
