Ishiro's tête-à-tête little whisper with his sister was intentionally not quietly uttered so as to be heard by the others. About the corners of his mouth lurked an odd smile in which a trace of contempt blended with eight years of repressed confrontation in the making.
They are nothing but useless and pathetic beings against the invincible power of our Father! Transfixed with horror to the ceaseless flow of Ishirō's arrogant and vulgar abuse, Jian swung his sword in a wide arc across the air.
Emika gasped, and nervously retreated behind her brother. Her doe-eyes growing so wide and apologetic, darted back and forth between those civilised people now turning into an uncouth chaos entirely because of her. How could this happen?
They were at friendship with each other, were they not?
Was she a friendship wrecker?
How could they have become at enmity with each other on that very day of rejoicing?