"How cold the snow is, I like it a lot," Delia muttered to herself.
She was lying in the center of the courtyard, right outside the castle walls. Her body lay motionless in that place as the white flakes slowly fell on her face.
"I couldn't stand the immense heat of Varvylon," the heroine added, closing her eyes to enjoy the low temperature of the northern nation.
Delia brought a hand to her stomach, feeling the severe pain of the impact in her muscles. She spat a bit of blood onto the snow to the side, clearing her mouth.
"That woman... so that is the power of an SS-rank," Delia said with a mix of surprise and pain in her voice.
She remembered the overwhelming speed of Helen's fist breaking the magical protection barriers that William used. And Helen broke them as if they were sheets of paper.
