Accompanied by roaring, the earth shook, and dust flew into the air amidst the loud bangs.
"PTUI!"
Under the sickly yellow sunset that made one's stomach turn, Augustine crouched behind cover, spat out the dust in his mouth, and looked up at his companion carrying the massive communication equipment, "Isn't it ready yet?"
Amidst the roaring, the Scholar in charge of communication was lying on the ground, his ear pressed against the speaker. After a long time, he looked up and shouted, "The Director of Affairs says it'll be soon."
"How soon is 'soon,' damn it! He's fooling you and you believe it!" August's eyes widened. "I suspect he's had Parkinson's since I was eight years old; he just loves to fool people!"
"He says it's on the way!"
"That means at least another damn hour—"
