To set foot on the outer battlefield as a scavenger, one needed formidable strength—at the very least Rank Seven, and often even higher. Rory was well aware of that frightening reality. She had not reached such heights yet, and she harbored absolutely no illusions about it.
She had seen the public records of Prince Vincent and the Empire's First Commander displayed on the light-brain before—countless pages of achievements glittering like untouchable trophies, glorious victories stacked upon victories.
To many, those records inspired awe and blind admiration. To Rory, they simply felt distant. People like them existed in a world far removed from her own, walking paths she would never cross. Because of that, she had never bothered to follow their exploits closely.
Rory was practical to the bone.
