Volovitz, the new recruit Holy Gunman of the Third Imperial Guard Army, stood on the slightly damp grass, sweat sticking the lightweight blended fabric to his skin, revealing the outline of his muscles.
During training at Joan of Arc Castle, he often deliberately displayed his muscle lines this way to provoke the feigned angry curses of the blushing nun girls.
But at this moment, Volovitz no longer had the mood for that.
His breathing was rapid, chest heaving irregularly, and through the shoulders of the Holy Gunman in the front row, he could vaguely see the approaching hired knights in the distance.
Dark clouds hung in the sky, only faint glimmers fell, shining on those knights' shiny armor, reflecting a grayish light.
The sound of hooves pounding the earth echoed from afar, causing the ground to tremble slightly.
