Hundreds of years later, I stood on the tall Renchel Holy Tower in the middle of Turan City, overlooking the barren land of Canterlot.
The wind roared with yellow dust and sand, lifting up the snow-white dress and ruffling the long light-colored hair. Underfoot, the low and scattered buildings were covered with a layer of dark gray in the autumn season. This city, which has gone through countless wars, blood, and destruction, has been reborn in the midst of struggle and pain. The incomplete streets are filled with ant-like humans. They are busy working hard for their homeland, and they spend every effort. They have no time to care about how the deep, crisscrossing marks are carved on the wall.
Nelson
Rebecca
Byron
Christopher
…
I silently recited a string of names, and in the afterglow of the setting sun, everything seemed to be blurry.
Unknowingly, tears streaked down my face.
Every piece of land in Turan is filled with the vicissitudes of history, the smoke of war, and the lives and hopes of all the warriors in Canterlot.
I swear, this will be the last time I cry for Canterlot.