It was a golden hall...
Armor made of gold hung on life-sized marble sculptures.
A crimson carpet stretched from the top of the hall down to the last marble step below, extending along a towering marble platform, connecting with the distant horizon.
From the sky looking down, the entire hall resembled a longsword laid flat on the ground.
The majestic outline and grand visual perfectly matched the unique aesthetic of the Weilante people.
Below the marble steps, people were cheering with joy.
They stood on both sides of the platform, holding flowers, seemingly celebrating something.
A sudden gentle breeze lifted the petals from people's hands, and the intoxicating fragrance momentarily blurred Comte's eyes.
Who am I?
Why am I standing here?
He looked down at his chest, where medals were hanging like a wall.
The countless honors made him feel both familiar and strange, with a hint of nervousness and trepidation.
