Those hideous-looking ghosts looked up to the sky and laughed wildly among the ruins.
This... Is a battlefield.
This... Is also a cemetery.
Yes, warrior.
Yes, warriors.
They turned their backs resolutely and stood far in front of me, waving their halberds.
They fell into the background of the sky full of fire, and became a very thick relief of vicissitudes of life, and those painful roars and tears were buried deeply.
They had never had tall bodies, and they saw many bright red colors spreading, trying to seep through their tattered clothes.
Chaos reigned on the battlefield.
Are those maple leaves spread on the ground? Otherwise, how could it be so brightly red?
Is that a crow standing in the sky? Otherwise, who would laugh so sadly.
The enemies rushing towards them like crazy couldn't see clearly their distorted faces, and they couldn't see the end of their endless chatter.
The soldiers were weak.
The bloody wind swept over and ruffled the corners of their clothes.
Onlookers will never know the tears of fear in the hearts of soldiers, because they are artificially buried too deep.
Under the bloody setting sun, everything will be dyed a dazzling red.
But it's so clear... The bright colors are so clear!
Red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, purple.
On their rings—or in their hearts—the cry of beautiful flames should be used as a memorial to the existence of life.