Pain was to be remembered. Once imprinted, it couldn’t be easily shaken off. 

“...It doesn’t hurt at all.” Jishuka smiled slightly as she sat in the capsule for a long time and rubbed her fingers. The pain in her fingers that overlapped every time she continuously fired—this was the worst penalty an archer had to endure. They had to feel the pain of their flesh being crushed, their muscles being ruptured, and their bones cracking throughout the battle. It might not be comparable to actual pain, but it still hurt. 

Above all, it was very difficult psychologically. The longer the battle, the more times the bowstring was pulled. She knew that this pain would stay in her memories and torture her all night after she returned to reality and she sometimes wanted to run away. 

Of course, she didn’t really escape. She didn’t take a step back. She didn’t complain of pain to her colleagues or show it. Even so, Grid knew her pain. After she returned from the hell expedition, he presented her with a new thimble. It was a durable thimble. It wrapped around her fingers and contained Grid’s warm consideration. 

‘...You have always been paying attention to me.’ 

He trusted her. He thought she would be able to do well with this rough thimble. 

“Good, let’s have strength.” 

Jishuka enjoyed the moment for a while before standing up vigorously. On...