Some things were always easier said than done. That was why the world had so many empty talkers.
On the battlefield, people fought one another face-to-face. They warned themselves that as long as they overcame their fear of death, they could face fear without trouble. Yet when a blade came down on them, they often understood the lightness of Death's footsteps only from the enemy's indifferent gaze.
Your head fell from your shoulders. The world spun upside down before your eyes, then you fell into the dust. The battlefield was filled with gray decay, symbolizing everything that had defined your existence—your name, status, faith, and family—all reduced to nothing by a single sword stroke. After that, there was neither beginning nor end. No one knew what lay beyond death, because it might very well be nonexistent.
The mountains and rivers, forests and plains remained unchanged in color. The sun, moon, and stars continued along their paths. The place where you departed this world was still filled with white flowers and green grass, yet you could no longer feel any of it.
Before disaster struck, fear sank into the marrow. Only then did it chill the heart.
Although Yuta was no inexperienced novice on the battlefield,
even if the wars between nobles in southern Eluin were little more than minor skirmishes, she had still faced death many times as a mercenary. Once someone had experienced death and bathed in the salty stench of blood on the battlefield, they underwent a complete transformation. Some veterans who had left the battlefield firmly believed in private that those who had experienced such things had already released the beast within their hearts.
Yuta herself did not know what kind of beast lay within her. At this moment, she felt only an unprecedented heaviness, exactly like