The Krieg sisters' boots struck the floor fast and in perfect unison. Their relentless stamping, paired with the taut energy of their leaps, painted a scene brimming with vitality.
The spectacle was already eye-catching enough, but remembering how lifeless they had once been made the contrast all the more striking.
The dancers onstage were focused and serious, not allowing their attention to stray from their own movements.
Those below watched in a daze, taking a while to realize just how passionate the dance was.
The thunderous stamping stirred homesickness in some. Tears glimmered in the Valhallans' eyes; they knew this dance was something found only in their icy homeland.
The Valhallans cheered loudly, their rhythmic whistles adding even more color to the performance. More and more soldiers were swept up by the fervent atmosphere, bobbing their heads to the beat and watching the Krieg performers with eager eyes.
A few Valhallans, unable to contain their enthusiasm, rushed beneath the stage and began jumping along with the Krieg dancers.
Those who could dance and those who could not all displayed their joy. Their cheers even drew the curiosity of people outside. Some soldiers pulled aside the tent flaps, saw the scene within, and called their comrades over to watch.
Before long, the enormous, spacious tent began to feel crowded. Yet even amid that crowd, order remained. No one was so swept away by the lively atmosphere that they lost their heads, sparing Commissar Cain the effort of maintaining discipline.
A dance that began with stamping had to end with stamping. When it was over, the Krieg sisters were slightly out of breath. Such broad, rapid movements placed astonishing demands on one's stamina.
They blinked as beads of crystal-clear sweat slid down their cheeks, ran along their necks, and soaked into their