After quickly dividing up the Ash Coins, the players launched into another heated discussion about tomorrow's tactics.
"We've got to use explosives again tomorrow! Ma Lou, do you have any Alchemical Bombs left?"
"I'll main tank tomorrow! I've got money now, so I'll buy a shield from the shop later and hold the front line!"
"The Unorthodox Tactics Group should bring extra mud tomorrow. We'll smear it right into those caster mobs' eyes!"
While the fifty-odd players gathered around the Ash Altar, arguing themselves red in the face over tomorrow's tactics...
Knight Kyle, still slumped on the ground, stared blankly at the scene.
Kyle looked at these people.
They were covered in blood and grime, and even squabbled over an iron sword looted from the Cultists.
Their language was incredibly crude, full of phrases like "drop coins," "exploit bugs," and "cheese line of sight."
And yet...
When their companions found themselves in trouble...
The powerful warriors who had received greater rewards from their god had actually shared their precious "revival currency" with the weak without the slightest hesitation!
There was no aristocratic arrogance, no greedy hoarding.
Only extraordinary unity and a willingness to sacrifice for a common goal!
What was more, they could have hidden safely inside the barrier, yet they insisted on crossing more than ten kilometers of deadly Wasteland to charge into a formation of hundreds of Cultists and fight through blood and carnage!
They sat on the ground without even a decent suit of armor, yet passionately discussed how they would keep risking their lives for Fog Town tomorrow!
With trembling hands, Kyle pressed his bloodstained knight's badge tightly to his chest, hot tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Thank you, great Lord of Ashes! Thank you, brave warriors!"
Kyle closed his eyes and bowed his head