Clack, clack.
The wheels rolled over the gravel path, stopping at the entrance of the street.
"Sir, the carriage can't go into Pea Street."
The driver of the public carriage knocked on the panel behind him.
In the somewhat dull sound, Jason, now wearing a black hooded robe, got off the carriage with a bouquet of edelweiss and looked ahead. The familiar, narrow Pea Street came into view.
During the "Disaster Day," Pea Street was almost the heart of the battlefield.
The "Old Duke" had used his life to make a stand for his beliefs here.
An unfathomable entity casually cast its gaze.
Tercon, thinking he had it all planned, was shot through with a bullet.
The "Shepherd," who planned to profit from others' conflicts, was unexpectedly interrupted.
Scene after scene.
Incident after incident.
Piece after piece.
Memories flowed like a stream, endlessly gathering in a river.
Eventually, the indifference and coldness in Jason's eyes began to rapidly diminish.
He stepped forward.
