Inside the Knight Order's temporary camp, Taren had just returned from the battlefield.
He lowered himself onto a wooden crate with visible difficulty, a sharp grimace crossing his face as pain flared through his chest.
Thick bandages were wrapped tightly around his torso. Every breath he drew was shallow and strained.
In his hand, he held a dented metal mug.
He raised it and took a long swallow of strong alcohol, hoping the burn in his throat would dull the agony radiating through his ribs.
The battle against the Beast God Sect had taken a heavy toll not only on him, but on every member of the Knight Order.
To halt the sect's advance, they had paid dearly.
Many had given up their lives.
Many had lost limbs.
Some were crippled for life.
For those unfortunates enough to survive with cripple legs, advancement was no longer possible.
Their path as awakeners had ended on that blood-soaked field.
