It's all one flower.

Roark had him in the room last night with Lacrimaris boy Farkill, half forcefully.

Alone with a quiet boy, he lies in a luxurious bed he has only seen in a movie.

Lately, Roark shut up with the boy who had just been on the road and didn't know what to talk about. Farkill doesn't say anything either.

Looking up behind the ceiling in the shiny room, I was reminded of what had happened.

Ever since that day, there have been a lot of people beside Rourke.

The citizens of the burned Fraxinus, the powerful and the powerless, have fled together.

The Star Way Prostitutes, who are supposed to be terrorists, are with us somehow. After their terrorist attacks, it was the Artel army that attacked them, probably because they are also enemies to them.

... but you don't know.

The Star Way Prostitute Army is a resident of the Ristover Autonomous Region and a Kirkrussian.

After half a century of civil unrest, the Republic of Artel, separated from the Republic of Lacus Lacrimalis, has made Kirkulus a state religion.

Would they consider the Artel army a real enemy when they carried out terrorism on the basis of faith?

Roark himself is a hidden Kirkulus who lived sneaky outside the Autonomous Community.

I remember the myths of the Lake Lacus region in order to pretend to be a Fraxinus, but I have no faith in the ancient gods.

I have been raised as a Kirkulus from an early age, but I was disgusted by the dual norms and cowardly deeds of my grandfather and parents, and only when my faith in the saint Kirkulus Lacteus disappeared.

... who am I...?

My grandfather and parents were in secret contact with the Star Way Prostitute Army in the Autonomous Region to help with terrorism.

A separate unit from Captain Solgnac's men was resting at Roark's home and preparing for his next operation.

Roark didn't let the police know while he knew the plot for the attack.

... I can't believe you really cottled me like that...!

A regret that I don't know how many times it's going to be again twists and burns behind my chest.

Somewhere in my heart, I still wanted to believe in my grandfather and my parents.

When I was young, the adults who adored me were cooperating with terrorists. The city burned and a large number of people were killed, but to celebrate it, he was enjoying a liquor platter with terrorists.

... My grandfather, my father and my mother, they died then.

My own house, my school, my city, everything, burned down by terrorism and air raids.

From the burn marks on my parents' house, I could take out the basement preserved food, etc., but the others didn't even leave a single picture.

Friends and neighbors probably wouldn't have survived a single one.

...... Viyunok, Chis, Chertpolov.

The smile of a friendly Fraxinus friend disappears in my mind.

... At least if I had just taught you about terrorism, you might have helped.

Tears seemed to overflow and I turned my back on Farkill.

Fun memories and burnt out city memories strike Roark in a mix.

In the flurry of memories, strangely chilled thoughts were tying Roark to reality.

Where Roark now regrets it, it's not like the Viyounooks are going to come back to life. People around me helped me and somehow helped me with the flow, but if I don't think about what I can do from now on and do it, there's no point in surviving.

A corner, a saved life.

Spending in peace and recklessness is sorry for them dying.

... but what can I do?

It has no power. I'm just a high school student. A powerless people, I can't use any of the magic. Ever since, the wizards have protected me from getting muddy.

I don't have any knowledge or skill.

Without the eye-lifting (meshing) and food-processing skills and customer service skills of Leno store manager's brothers and sisters, there is no skill in spreading grass (Tsukusa) craftsmanship that seems to be commonly worn by the people of the Autonomous Region, no skill in sewing Amiella, no skill in battle of the Star Road Yoshi Army.

Eating is helped by the bakery brothers and sisters.

When Roark was attacked by a thug, he had no hands or feet, and he alone could not protect the pharmacist (dull) Awellana of the people of the lake. No, she would have gotten away with [jumping] by herself. Now more aware that he was a foot wrap, Roark trembled like he had been showered with cold water.

If everyone hadn't come to help me then, what would have happened to the two if the Star Road Prostitutes hadn't fought to save the witch Awellana? Even the imagination was horrible.

Right now, he's letting me help him make drugs, but Roark himself has no knowledge or skill whatsoever. With the skill of spreading grass and sewing, I could make a sale, but there was nothing in Roark.

... I'm really useless.

As it was, I couldn't just be protected and fed by everyone and spend time trying to.

I wonder what I can do.

No, what the hell do I want to do?

Keep going with everyone to the port of Grom, to the refugee camps in the capital, Cravel and Amitostigma, and what will it be?

I killed the Viyunoks, and now I'm protected by the magical talisman he made me.

What should I do for the condolences of my friends?

... you want to fight back at the Artel guys somehow.

According to information obtained on the radio, the regular army of Nemoralis had been unable to march in the waters south of the island of Negna due to the lake blockade in the Kingdom of Lacrimaris.

Artel Army air raids seem to be preventable with new-weapon demon asthma cannons, but they are on the defensive side.

... somewhere in Nemoralis... aren't you recruiting militias in the capital or something?

If you could lend me a gun or some kind of weapon and get an artist who knows the Artel realm to carry it in [leap], even Roark would be able to fight a little.

I lose everything, I can't do anything.

I helped myself by killing my friends.

It's a long life for me to live like that. I even thought I wanted a normal life when I got a job, got married, had kids, got married, had grandchildren... etc.

I can't face them for killing me even though I'm not guilty of anything.

... If you can fight back against Artel and help end the war a little quicker, you can't spare this life.

I kept thinking about that last night and I hardly (mostly) slept, but Roark didn't even feel drowsy about the monotonous task.

Place dried earthworms in a breast bowl and rinse with a breast stick.

These worms were alive. I can't waste one.

Sprinkle the rinsed earthworm powder on a large plate and add the earthworm to the breast bowl again.

... right. Morph, I'm sure this is how you feel about being terrorists.

Rourke continued the work at hand, thinking of the Autonomous Communities who went to the woods to pick up materials.