Evangeline looked out the window with a bleak expression. A small part of the city lay in ruin, jagged and broken, yet even now she could see people moving through the streets, gathering debris, helping one another, continuing on with life.
Life was resilient that way.
This was, after all, a universe created by the Goddess of Doom. The Mother of the Circle of Inevitability was almost cruel in her indifference. She did not weep for destruction, nor did she celebrate survival.
But those born of war were strong.
That was why, despite the deaths, the people simply went on living. They did not have the luxury of stopping. Those who stood still because of death would never be able to truly live.
Evangeline clenched her fist.
The power of a fourth-class advancement… it was even greater than the third class. How casually the warden had lifted and ruined entire buildings. How effortlessly cities could be scarred.
This was power capable of moving mountains.
