After the soldiers moved in a hurry, the commotion inside the camp settled down. It wasn’t completely quiet, as expected of a place that housed soldiers preparing for an imminent war. Yet, the tent that Chelsea stayed in was considerably quieter and better than most. The size of the tent was not only big—a few people shared it, and the goods stored there were also of better quality. Overall, it was better than most commanders’ accommodations.

This was only expected for someone of her rank. Chelsea was an outstanding holy mage, selected as a saint candidate at one point among the many priests in the church. Furthermore, her power was especially welcomed on a battlefield where the boundary between life and death was the faintest. Yet, even though she received such splendid treatment, Chelsea wasn’t pleased.

‘I hope it will be all right.’ Even if her living space was better than most, the tent’s hard bed, incomparable to the luxuries she enjoyed during her saint candidate days, subtly poked her bottom. The situation greatly irritated her, but the anxiety she felt far surpassed the irritation she felt about her bed.

‘I can’t fail this time....