Whoosh! Whoosh!
Across the scorched earth ravaged by wind and sand, aether churned. Two figures wrapped in arcs of light, one ahead and one behind, used the cover of the storm to advance rapidly.
"Master, wait!"
However, after passing through a stretch of dry, slanting dead trees, the blue-white glow faded. The girl's nostrils flared as she abruptly stopped and called out to the one ahead.
That familiar burnt stench filled her with intense unease. Artoria suppressed the anxiety in her heart, pushed aside the dead vines near a fence, and carefully stepped inside.
In an instant, as those pure eyes took in the scene before her without missing a detail, the girl froze where she stood.
The skeletal frames of houses, all that remained of them, still smoldered with dying flames. Their beams crackled, while the air retained the foul stench of burnt flesh. Beneath the blackened bricks and rubble lay twisted, curled corpses.
Their outstretched hands resembled ghostly claws reaching out from hell. Their savage expressions in death made one seem to hear the wails and curses rising from their very souls.
Among them were frail elders, small children, men who had resisted, helpless women, and even livestock such as dogs, cattle, and sheep caught up in the slaughter...
Before the butcher's blade, all life was equal.
The seventh...
The seventh village to be massacred...
Though she had already encountered such scenes more than once during their flight, a chill still spread uncontrollably through her body. Artoria shuddered and instinctively clutched the staff in her arms tighter, her delicate shoulders trembling despite herself.
"Most of the bodies bear wounds from sharp blades. They were basically burned only after death, and there are no signs that they were abused before dying. That should make you feel a little better..."