It's all one flower.

"What? That's..."

"He's pretending to be a Fraxinus, hiding his faith, and he's getting mixed up all over the land of Nemoralis. Those who say so have been in contact with Artel and Lanista's terrorist group, the star markers, to support the terror of the Star Way Prostitutes."

"How could you...?

"That's what my grandfather and my parents say. He's a Hidden Kirkurist, and he said to me," Don't hang out with evil. "I've been hanging out with the Chertpolovs in private."

Farkill did not know what to say and exhaled his swallowed breath with the words. Careful voices continue to talk about whether the tremor of exhalation has passed to Roark.

"You surprised me, didn't you? Sorry, but I thought I'd eat some Kirkulus shit and let my parents know I was planning a terrorist attack... so I went to the police to let them know I was preparing for a poison gas attack at my followers friend's house and ran away. If you think it's a lie, ask the captain tomorrow. The captain doesn't know our parents, but he knows the plan and the support of the hidden followers."

Farkill thought about what Roark had revealed his secret for.

Earlier words get hooked.

- You'll never see me again, so I'll tell you right now.

In normal circumstances, it refers to breaking up in a foreign country and simply losing contact.

But not now.

Farkill asked himself in anticipation of an answer different from the horrible idea.

"Farkil, you said the Kirkulus sect was the enemy. I think so, too. But that's not all."

Roark's story has not been the answer to the question.

Farkill, wondering if he didn't want to say it, silently listened to Roark. The story continues in a dark tone of self-derision. In the darkness, emotions caged in my voice were heard more clearly than usual.

"Those who use the faith of those who still believe, and those who use the haste of the denomination, instigate the star of the fanatics or something, incite the government of Artel and the denomination behind it to wage war."

"Why, no..."

"War is a lucrative business. I need to do some damage to my country."

"Commerce…"

... Are you trying to tell me that the Death Merchant is biting one? Like the Barbatum Federation? Cotto said you wanted to make a stock sweep sale on an old drone and you incited it?

Doubts come to mind, but every answer felt like it was far from what Roark was trying to say.

"My grandfather worked at a trading company, and he was talking about the economy at home, and now it's a global recession in the Kirkulus area."

Farkil was surprised that Roark, who had no internet environment, pointed out exactly what Lazolnik said then and as analyzed by the spelldoctor Septentorio.

"The hidden followers of Nemoralis wanted to overthrow a government that oppressed the Kirkurs and create a government that was convenient to them, and they did things. The ones who burned down the Autonomous Communities are the star markers who live in them."

"What?"

Words don't last much.

If you don't like Nemoralis, you can move to Artel or Lanista or somewhere in the northern Alton Gaza continent via a third country.

We have the means to defend our faith peacefully and to escape persecution.

You can't burn down the city and take a lot of lives. Farkil's skin popped in their madness, which caused the wizards to burn the city they lived in, including at home.

"You're crazy, aren't you? I couldn't believe I even had a suicide bomber that burned down the city I lived in."

"Suicide bombing…"

"I'm a powerless people, and I don't have the luxury of setting fire to the Barack Street in the mess-built Autonomous Community and escaping safely."

How many inhabitants were there in the mess?

I can't imagine Farkill. I didn't even want to think about it.

"I was helped prepare for the attack on the Star Road Prostitute Army, but I wasn't informed about Artel's air raid. But he knew our grandfather, our parents, the director of the Zerneau branch of the national broadcast."

"Why..."

I want to ask you a question, but my mouth is dry and speechless.

Did they not teach my son, and let him evacuate first?

How did Roark know that and survive?

Roark speaks almost as if he were talking to himself.

"After the air raid, everyone who happened to survive...... erm, other than Mr. Amiela"

"Other than Mr. Amiela?

"Because we met later. Shortly after the air raid, the three survivors of the Star's Way Prostitute were with us, evacuating to the broadcaster after the fire went out. Because it was in ruins, but it was better than anywhere else. So I found several clues that the branch chiefs knew about the air raid beforehand. The captain saw the same thing and came to the same conclusion."

Farkill rebuffed Roark's explanation in the same darkness, whether he opened his eyes or closed them. What does that mean for Roark?

... Ah...!

I tried to speak up, but I couldn't.

Hotel rooms have outlets for charging for pilgrims from abroad, but no lighting to use electricity. [Lights] can't be turned off by a maid and turned on by two powerless people.

I gently slipped out of bed, headed to the window by hand exploring, and opened the curtain. Half moon and starlight shoot in, making the contours of things float.

"What's going on?

"Hey, my throat's dry."

When Farkill said in a faint voice, Roark also got out of bed and poured me into the cup from the silver watering.

The sleepless two move onto the couch and talk over a glass of water.

"The Branch Chief, his grandfather and his parents are still alive. I don't know where he is, but he's fomenting the war while living somewhere pretending to be the victim."

"Why, do you think so?

It doesn't seem like it's a gentle feeling to say that I want my family to live.

I could see how Roark felt, and Farkill drank the cup of water all at once to mislead the pain.

"My grandfather wasn't an official priest, but he was acting like a priest among the hidden followers. Within the companions whose parents say the same, in that capacity, is the head of the trade division of the company Nemoralis Branch of the company called Libertas International Trade. I often go to the port of Gryage, so I live in the city of Zerneau, but I also go to Cravel and foreign countries for company use."

Roark says that much and waits for Farkill to finish pouring water into the cup. A hand with a furkill watermark shook and a silver pour touched a ceramic cup to make a small noise.

"On the day of the terrorist attack, my father normally went to work, but my mother was off work. I was at home when I stopped going to school. The same was true on the first day of the air raid. Besides, my father pretends to be a Fluxinus and gets along with local councillors. You know what I mean by this?

"... I can get a ship to evacuate to Nemoralis Island to take precedence... or something?

"There would have been that, too. It could be working with the government through congressmen to curb the attack on Artel"

"Huh?

"You just have to intercept with a demon asthma cannon, didn't you say something like that? Otherwise, there will be a large number of demon soldiers in ancient stocks with land exploration in Artel. Now the militant guerrilla went to attack with a [jump]."

"Ah..."

Farkil had no idea why the regular army of Nemoralis did not launch an attack on the mainland of Artel. For the first time since Roark told me, I notice its unnatural.

There's only one demon asthma cannon, and now they're wandering in the Tuman Forest. It is impossible to send a large search party to Lacrimalis territory, so it would be a small number of people to search.

There are probably no demon-mounted soldiers capable of attack at a distance equal to a demon asthma cannon and in a wide area.

No matter how hard I try, I get a shot leak.

Rather than the rest of the soldiers building a manned air defense network and intercepting it, slapping Artel's air base would do less damage to the land.

Even in junior high school, if you think about it for a second, you'll see.

An adult... a professional soldier can't possibly fail to notice.

In fact, air strikes dropped dramatically when the Roarks militant guerrillas crushed just one spot.

Including the powerless people, it was also made of amateur gathering units that were not heavily trained. A unit of demon-mounted soldiers would surely have accomplished it without giving a single victim of their own, and it might be possible to slap all the bases of Artel at the same time.

Roark nodded, seeing as Farkill understood.

"Farkill, you're a good asshole.... Maybe my grandfather would have interacted with other senators with deep ties to his finances on the day he traveled to HQ or something, so if he survived and crossed over to Nemoralis Island, he's still working to pull regular army legs by saying he's good?

Roark sips water and exhales heavily.

The half-moon light merely raised the outline of the object to the ceiling, and I couldn't even see his expression.