Two somewhat clumsy-looking carriages traveled along the dirt road, pressing deep wheel ruts into the ground. Although the iron-black carriages looked unremarkable, the several Dokens pulling them from the front appeared exceptionally imposing.
Clatter, clatter...
The mechanical winch turned as the Drunkard from the "Sunset Red" squad clung beneath the carriage, dismantling something.
"Are you done yet? The Dokens pulling the carriage can't hold out much longer. Release the winch."
The bear-strong old man slapped the carriage floor beneath him, making loud thuds. He was unusually irritable.
"Almost. Shut up."
The Drunkard was clearly no pushover either. He was the squad's scout, skilled in mechanical repairs, mixing explosives, assassination, and the like.
The bear-strong old man Yoseya was clearly the sort who charged straight into a fight. In nine out of ten battles, he was the first one to charge.
Saint Councillor Carmen, on the other hand, was the insidious type. His strength was inferior to Yoseya's, and his techniques were inferior to Witch Grave's, but his overall abilities were formidable.
The senile Witch Grave served as long-range firepower. He was skilled in using bows and crossbows, shotguns, siege crossbows, blowguns, and every other kind of ranged weapon. Whenever a witch was captured alive, he was responsible for interrogating her.
Drunkard, Blood Bear, Carmen, and Gunter (Witch Grave)—those were the names the four used for one another.
The four people in the carriage all looked perfectly normal. None of them displayed the heroic air of men embarking on a journey from which they would never return. In their eyes, not coming back was only to be expected. Dying in the south was their duty; surviving and returning would be a huge profit.
Inside the carriage of the Sunset Red suicide squad, Witch Grave was staring blankly at the carriage roof.