"And those selfish nobles, the Council that is either incompetent or lets chaos reign, the Holy Professionals of the Dawn Church who hole themselves up in the Cathedral without a single thought for the common people..."
"I really hate all of it!"
Wei'en murmured these thoughts to himself as the lightning wings on his back spread, lifting him into the air. Immediately after, the electricity on his wings twisted and elongated, lashing out like whips to intercept all the attacks from the Vasquez People.
"So, why did you have to force my hand?"
Wei'en's tone was unnaturally calm. The memories of his dozens of days of living—no, *surviving*—in this world flashed one by one before his eyes.
In those scenes, the smiles, the fear, the helplessness, the tension, the pity, the sympathy... all vanished from his face like popping bubbles.
Wei'en stared expressionlessly at the Vasquez People, the eight black pupils on his face clearly reflecting every single detail of their forms.
