"Hm? I'm supposed to take a piece of junk like this for the mission?"
In the sunset's afterglow, a cold, clear voice drifted over from the railing of the Black Society's ship—a vessel so vast its railing resembled a coastline.
Slowly approaching along with the voice was the clatter of metal-soled shoes on the deck,
one set of steps after the other, one heavy, one light.
"Yes, Lord Demon Sword. The general said this is a confidential operation, so it's best not to draw too much attention."
Great Wilderness followed behind a tall woman.
The woman looked to be around twenty-one or twenty-two. She had a high-bridged nose and a face as sharp and precise as a blade, her expression a mix of cold beauty and derision. She wore a deep black training uniform, and a uniquely styled longsword hung from her left hip.
Its scabbard was pitch-black, understated and profound, resting snugly against the sharp, aloof line of her waist.
