Leon said nothing, merely gripping the communication robot's terminal in silence.
This woman seemed to represent the views of many like her online: an almost arrogant, self-satisfied hypocrisy toward the matter.
It seemed this really wasn't some diverse, inclusive youth school manga.
The woman was still spraying saliva everywhere:
"There is a possibility of communication between our civilizations. The initial conflict may have just been a misunderstanding. He—"
Someone at the scene had finally had enough of this endlessly babbling woman.
A fist slammed into her face. Then, a man with a bandage around his head and dust all over his face took the microphone.
With such great television drama, the station naturally had no intention of cutting away.
The man cursed furiously:
"Shut up, bitch! Not long ago, I was beneath those ruins—the slaughterhouse you were talking about."
"The moment the Flaxans arrived, they opened fire on civilians. I'd say at least dozens died in that instant. The intelligent life you keep talking about is as laughable as calling them a beacon of civilization."
He showed his bandages to the camera.
"Anyway, as far as I'm concerned, that guy is a real hero. I hope he gets a codename. I don't want to keep calling my benefactor 'that guy.'"
After that, the reporters found many more people.
There were rescue workers.
"I suggest that instead of having time to sympathize with the Flaxans, that lady should come over here and lend us a hand."
There were also active heroes who had changed into casual clothes.
"The situation really was critical at the time. We had no idea how many more Flaxan troops would come pouring through."
"Maybe it was right to scare them off with forceful measures. Uh, remember to censor that."
And there were superhero fans. One man