The pervasive sound of cannon fire seemed to have become the ambient noise of this world, the roaring echoing in the ears of those atop the city walls, as well as those beneath them.
When the war had just begun, the mercenaries might have harbored some thoughts—wondering how to win this battle, or imagining what rewards awaited them upon victory, and how to spend those rewards.
But when flames raged fiercely around each of them, all those lush, beautiful, and horrific fantasies dissipated completely.
The mercenaries moved forward blindly, operating the weapons in their hands, following orders, and launching attacks step by step.
When the blood-soaked corpses of comrades fell beside them, they might briefly snap out of their daze, yet in the unending cacophony of cannon fire, they pressed on, bewildered.
They controlled mechanical weapons, yet it seemed as if they themselves were merely weapons under control.
