Nine people, an "X" organization, cannot control the war of an era.
The sword in your hand has killed countless people. When will you finally fall under the sword of others?
"How many gold coins will I be worth after I die?" This simple and straightforward question shocked the soul.
What is the value of man in war?
A tool for killing? Killed puppet? Or... A gold coin?
"A head is worth a gold coin. Who set the price?"
"I don't want to be worth just one gold coin after my death. This is too cheap!"
Kill or be killed, gold coins roll from the employer's hands.
"How many more gold coins can I get?"
"Who will take away the gold coin that symbolizes me?"
Nine people, an "X" organization, nine past events, nine bloody epics, and nine gold coins.
"I love the sunset after the war, the piles of corpses, white bones, crows in the sky, and a lot of gold coins in the pockets."
"No matter what, as long as the one who dies is never me."
"Ignore the dead and pick up the sword, the next war is waiting for us!"