"Tch. Your figures are terrible—just clumsy muscles everywhere. You must be from the imperial army," Rosalia said, glancing at their bodies. "Phield, don't stare so blatantly. Trust me—my figure is way better than theirs."
The little girl planted her hands on her hips, wearing an expression that clearly said, Are you seriously comparing them to me?
Having been called out by Rosalia, Phield still upheld a gentleman's principles and appreciated their bizarre performance art openly. "So… what exactly are you trying to do? Also, could you maybe take a bath? That smell—"
The overwhelming stench of seawater could be detected from twenty meters away.
The two women kept their eyes shut, saying nothing, murmuring incomprehensible prayers.
"They're waiting to be eaten by bugs," Rosalia said calmly, gripping the Greatsword of Gluttony. "Looks like cultists embedded within the army. Unfortunately for them, their hopes are about to be crushed."
