Liberi Reader

Fear. It's a tolerance that we are naturally born with, just like how plants are able to adapt to soil that make havoc of their own rootstocks.

To shatter our will, they'll need to spread a much great 'dosage' of fear in Brentwood.

Freda is the greatest testament.

She is so fragile that you could break her simply by bumping into her, but she persisted among that crowd of terrifying men up till now.

But I can tell that she needs someone to confide in and vent her fear.

Will... he's not mature enough. It's not very likely he would understand how Freda feels.

Perhaps I can help her?

He seems very feeble, even more so than yesterday.

What happened?

Ritual... Key...

The blood-colored worm is staring at me.

The key...

My soul is trembling.

......

He grabs me by the hand, but places it on a pair of scissors in his hand.

There seems to be a ray of longing burning in the depths of his ashen eyes.

What is this prideful man longing for?

Release? Pity? Or is it perhaps... that word that I can't bring myself to touch?

I notice that even though the two of us have spent a very long time together in this greenhouse, I've never actually truly understood this man.

But I have to leave now. Just as he said, there is no time.

I'm sorry.

I can't stand by and watch anymore—

The last time I saw such beautiful fireworks. It was the harvest festival when I was ten.

Grandfather put me on his shoulders and walked through the crowd.

Everyone looked up to the fireworks blooming in the sky astonished. Everyone kept quiet, only for the silence to be torn apart by the explosive sound wave a moment later.

This is just like that.

Freda set off the cannon Mr. West was hiding for the harvest festival. There are countless Sarkaz pulling her from behind.

Drenched in blood, she is shouting something, but whatever she is trying to say, it's buried by the cannon's loud roar.

She is buried by the wave of Sarkaz gushing toward her and torn apart.

A flame burning bright in the middle of the day—

The cannons keep roaring.

A grand ceremony has come to Brentwood ahead of schedule.

On the sundering earth, a large number of red worms keep gushing onto surface. They chew on every soul they can reach and suck their blood.

The Feline girl named Rockrock takes out a dagger from her waist and stuffs it into my hand.

A large group of Sarkaz are closing in on our location.

Make up my mind.

Right.

Just like... that Sarkaz officer who collapsed among the fluttering petals.

I grip the dagger tight.

A shot rings out.

Identification code?

Is it the military? Victorian... Right... the military is responding to the war.

They must be a group of ice-cold men. They're here to kill the Sarkaz and save the Victorians. They—

A thick, roiling cloud of dust is kicked up into the air all over within view. Again and again, bright flashes of light suddenly erupts across the ground.

What is that... A tank?

I can hear a firm, persevering female voice coming from Feist's communicator.

While I was still trying to identify the squad that suddenly came to our aid, the blond Feline has already ziplined to the center of the battlefield.

She descended from the sky, and bombastically made her way into the center of the Arts Circle's blood-red pillar of light. The sound of rocks blasted apart ring throughout the entire battlefield.

'Thump.'

I can see each and every swing of her large sledgehammer in that red light.

'Forward!'

The Feline's voice ignites the tank's engine.

I see a warrior holding a sledgehammer up high leading the Victorians to retake our land.

No...