"A weapon! Kase, give me the Short Spear on the ground!"
Colin roared, reaching out to grab something, but several dark figures immediately pounced on him and held him down firmly.
"Damn it... Fuck you, you Jackal Wolfmen!"
After spitting out the curse, he began to rapidly chant a Spell.
"Calm down, good sir. Please, calm down."
A familiar voice drifted over.
Colin looked around and found himself lying on a wooden bed, with the old Priest he had met a few days ago sitting by his side. The figures holding him down weren't vicious Jackal Wolfmen, but several old soldiers.
He took a few ragged breaths.
The Flame between his fingers dissipated into sparks that floated into the air.
Colin calmed down and, lying on the bed, said, "Sorry, I..."
"We're the ones who should be sorry. I've met a few soldiers before who've gone through the same thing. One of them killed his own comrade right after waking up, which is why we held you down." The commander walked over.
