Soren sat on the sofa. Behind the sofa was a collapsed building. It was probably a supermarket. A badly damaged signboard was pressed into the rubble, revealing a corner.

In front of the sofa, a bonfire was burning. The firelight illuminated Soren's face with redness, and an undetectable sense of loss surfaced on his handsome face. As for his line of sight, it fell on the transformed revolver that was in his palm.

After the windmill town left, the caravan headed ...