The young man, tanned black by The Sun, returned to his tent in the village next to the industrial zone, angrily sitting down on a stool.
This anger was not only directed at the Vellante people, but also at those Alliance members who prevented them from seeking revenge, and a part of it was even directed at his own disappointing self.
He was the bravest young man in the village, originally supposed to lead the villagers to argue their case, yet his shoulders still couldn't stop trembling.
He loathed his own cowardice, though he didn't even understand how he could stop being so cowardly.
Looking at his grandson, the wrinkled old man sighed and spoke in a slow tone.
"Bosaka, you're too impulsive."
Bosaka turned around and glared at him, pouring out his anger and complaints from his chest.
"I don't understand, what exactly do they want to do? Aren't the Vellante people their enemies? We can take care of their enemies for them, and we don't ask for much!"
