It's all one flower.

"Are those...?

"I brought him in so that he could [jump] here if he got hurt. Once you know where it is, you will return to your base in North Zakart City."

... I don't want it to be like jumping here...

Security guard Oriol forcefully said how he perceived the concerns of the spelldoctor Septentorio.

"I knew Artel wasn't a single rock. We're moving for revenge, but we're not attacking indiscriminately, like the Artel Army, and we won't."

"… This war is being waged with the intentions of some of the extreme people of Artel. People whose opinions have been truncated are believed to be shrinking under pressure from the military and security authorities"

"If you slap the army, they may be free to express their opinions."

Oriol laughs thinly.

Pushing the untransmitten elusiveness to the bottom of his chest, Septentorio, the people of the lake, persuaded him persistently.

"For a while now, I've been collecting information in the newspapers and on that kid's terminal."

"Thank you. Anything else, Cotto, that might help, got it?

The youth of the land people give thanks with an uncontrolled smile. I don't think he was driven by revenge, scattered death in Artel, and sent many of his compatriots to the dead. A normal young man.

"Didn't you know that for a while now, on the Internet, a song has been the subject of discussion?

"Song?... Oh, at Lacrimalis, I let my supporters hear it. That's the one you lyricized to National Health Gymnastics, right?

"Yes. It was also reported in newspapers and elsewhere, and now they're talking about it all over the world. The song has inspired support for refugees from foreign countries."

"That lyrics, integrate the country, you're saying a trick like"

To the casual words of the youth, the long-lived racial curse doctor was gnawed. The curse doctor himself remembers just hearing it a few times. Connect memory fragments together.

... if you ask me that...?

At the beginning I named the islands and Artel, which were the Lacus Lacrimaris Republic, and I feel like they were singing that they were originally one.

"In which part of the lyrics... did you think so?

"I don't know where I'm going to say, well... erm... I'm telling you to go back to the country before half a century of civil unrest because if you do, you're calling it 'one'... isn't it?

"Really? I don't remember the song clearly so I'll check back later. What did everyone else say about this song?

"Nothing in particular...... I'm here now, and I'll ask you later?

"Right......"

The spelldoctor Septentorio was a little lost, but corrected his residence (absence) and asked less than a tenth of the young men of the spelldoctor.

"Do you think Mr. Oriol should restore the country to its original form?

"No, you can't."

Immediately, the answer came back that was out of the question's intent.

Born in the days of the old kingdom before the republican transition, the spelldoctor carefully searched for words on how to tell a young man who knew neither then, nor the next, nor half a century of civil unrest.

They keep their mouths shut and say that there is no leader, but essentially this young magic warrior had bound the Avengers, trained them as guerrilla soldiers and directed this whole group of operations.

"Let's put aside the possibility of realisation for a moment. Do you think we should restore a country divided into three parts to its original form?

"Come on......? I don't know the original shape."

"So would you like to know those times?

"Are you studying history? Now..."

To the semi-slaughing young man, the long-lived racial curse doctor said, without moving his expression.

"Neither do I know how you, the younger generation, have learned about past history. I live long, but I have no professional pattern, no children, no offspring. Everyone in my body is dead. I don't have contact with children other than my patients."

"Am I going to teach the curse doctor? I only know it in textbooks, but I know what it really was like in those days to be a curse doctor?

The youth of the people of the land shook their shoulders when they said, "Don't make crap jokes." The curse doctor of the people of the lake gazed straight into the eyes of the young man, including his self-derision. Laughter draws from young magic warriors.

"Tell me. The history you've learned."

"Knowing such a trick, what happens?

"I don't want any more people to lose everything and grieve like Mr. Oriole and the others. If we look at the cause of this little by little and get rid of it..."

Everyone who's been killed won't come back.

"It's the same, even with vengeance"

A dark silence descended between them. An immobile air becomes a wall between a young man in his twenties and a long-lived race after more than four hundred years.

Olyor exhaled heavily and dropped his gaze on the floor about how long it had been stoned and stuck.

"If you can get revenge, you can't spare your own life. It's a waste of time to teach them history. I don't have ears to listen to."

"Mr. Oriole himself, is it?

Ask the young man who spoke of giving up. Oriol nodded small, staring at the floor.

"... to talk to a spelldoctor about an attack on Aquillo Station in the near future."

The place name sounds familiar. The spelldoctor Septentorio handed the thread of memory.

Located west of Rufus, the largest city in the Artel region and now the capital of the Artel Republic, at the northern end of Straja Bay. When Septentorio was a military doctor in the old kingdom, he was a fortress alerting demons and warcraft across the bay.

The current situation, with the exception of Lanterna Island, is the base closest to the target of the attack on Nainia Island.

"The massive air strike in the meantime was a drone that launched from here and from Ignikerns base."

"Munchkin?"

"Erm, fighter golem, well, machines, even if people aren't on board, they can maneuver from afar."

"That's what..."

"Well, science is making a lot of progress, too. For about three years now, they've been buying and collecting second-hand products used by the Kirkuri countries of Alton Gaza, like the Federation of Barbatum and the Republic of Banksia."

Oriol stayed down and spoke in a flat voice about where and how the information was purchased.

"Over there, if you get intercepted, your own soldiers won't die. So I don't have any grieving families. We..."

Tears overflowed from both eyes of Oriol, who raised his face.

"We... the machines burned the city, they killed us all... they're in a safe place..."

The spelldoctor Septentorio lost his word. A dark hole opens his mouth at his feet, trembling like he was exposed to the wind blowing up from the underworld, holding his own shoulders.

We weren't bleeding with each other. It was a unilateral killing.

Artel defiantly criticized the demon asthma cannon as a "weaponized magic creature," but you say the machine doesn't mind killing people?

Both are things produced in people's hands and move as the operator wants. What difference does it make besides the power source?