After lunch and a brief rest, Kang Chan issued the order to move out. 0

Manrici, along with another soldier, moved ahead. They advanced past those standing like gravestones with empty and hollow gazes built on a foundation of grief. 0

If it weren’t for that grief, if it weren’t for the bloodshot eyes of the old woman leaning against the wall, constantly wiping away tears, they might have held out here longer.0

Creak. Creak.0

Heading onward with his rifle slung over his right shoulder, Kang Chan could only think of one thing: somewhere at the end of this march, they could find a child who would survive all this—just as Enzo and Gillot had. Perhaps they would grow up dirty like Enzo, regretful like Gillot, or even bitter like Kang Chan himself. 0

Still, isn’t it more important that they at least get a chance to live?0

Twenty minutes would pass quickly—it was nothing for trained soldiers. The blazing midday sun and the hot sand were minor inconveniences. The real issue was the complications that could arise just from walking across the desert.0

A sniper could be hidden beneath the sand, lying in wait with their rifle aimed like a scorpion. An actual scorpion or some venomous creature could also crawl up their legs. Lastly, there was the constant irritation from Smithen, who was always trying to position himself at the back and stirring murderous impulses.0

Tap, tap!0

After about twenty minutes of walking, they heard a rifle’s muzzle being tapped lightly from up ahead. Kang Chan quickly...0