Colon Town's bitter winter pressed down on every corner like a block of lead.
It had been barely half a month since the enemy army swept across Seferen Country like Heaven's Punishment and news arrived that the royal city had fallen, yet this inland town's connection with the outside world had already been severed completely.
Panic grew like a plague, but what gnawed at people's souls more viciously than panic was hunger!
The charcoal stove at old blacksmith Hank's home had long since gone cold, and the grocery shop's last bit of black bread mixed with sawdust had run out five days ago.
In the tavern, the uproar of drunken revelers had been replaced by dead silence. People huddled in the corners like ghosts, their eyes vacant.
Hans lay at home, his stomach burning fiercely.
His mind repeatedly replayed that destructive silver moon over the coastline and that figure as terrifying as a God or Devil.
He had once rejoiced at escaping from the Evil God's palm and returning to his homeland, but now he seemed to have fallen into another, even more desperate prison.
"We can't keep waiting like this. We have to go out and find food!"
Hans climbed out of bed and made up his mind.
"Are you crazy? What if we run into the enemy?"
His wife stopped him at once.
After the royal city fell, the town had received no further news from outside.
The postmen, telegraphs, telephones, and merchant caravans—all communication had been cut off.
Everything outside the town had become unknown.
Perhaps a war was raging out there, with the Evil God's army rampaging everywhere!
"Being killed would still be better than sitting here waiting to die!"
Hans gritted his teeth.
As a soldier, even though he had chosen to become a deserter,