Outside West Sail Port, on a stretch of red soil nearing the coastline.
A dozen Vellante men shouldering their rifles, smoking while watching the people digging pits in the distance.
There are men, women, and even elderly and seemingly young children.
Evidently, the Vellante did not plan to measure their height with a wheel, but chose the fairest approach.
They held shovels, trembling with sobs, as they dug into the blood-red soil.
Though most of them knew what the pits were for, none dared stop.
After all, cooperating might buy them a bit more time.
While stopping would earn them a beating before dying.
As for resisting...
The Vellante wished they would try.
After all, firing on unarmed people would incur some guilt.
"Get on with it, mud worms, finish early and lie in there to rest, hahaha."
On the edge of the crowd, a Vellante soldier carrying a rifle cursed viciously, with undisguised humiliation in his words.
