It's all one flower.

Awellana fills the kettle with all the wound medicine and raises her face.

The Secretary of the Civil Hospital stood in front of him. I say it's a plug from a citizen, and they hand me a crushed copepan.

I didn't notice my hunger until I got a plug in. As soon as I gratefully received it, Awellana's belly rattled.

I remembered there was a water bottle in the bag.

The rest of the tea at noon was totally cold, but better than nothing. Theoretically speaking, I don't want to drink the water I pulled out of the body, even though it's beautiful.

Take rest between bundles until the next empty container arrives.

The secretary also handed it out to the curse doctor and other pharmacists (dullness) and nurses. Apparently, wizard priority. To the pharmacists and nurses of science, we have not yet done so.

Bite crushed and hardened bread. The fragrance made my stomach even more hungry.

Bite slowly and pour in with tea. Funny, a little hunger would be confusing.

The hospital's kitchen was destroyed with grenades and dynamite, ruining food as well.

Terrorists may have attacked the kitchen for fire, but they were protected by [fire resistance] technique and just had to be equipped with a blast.

I think I heard someone say the police cafeteria seems safe, but no cooking out, no food distribution.

I don't have any information, and I don't know what's going on right now.

I don't know where my non-father family is doing it.

I don't know when to put it on my diet.

I'm helping with the treatment here, is this the best thing to do?

Without knowing anything, I am pursued by the work in front of me.

The empty kettle came back. The ingredients are still there. The number of injured people here is sufficient and bribes. That's all I could feel safe about.

... Even if you're not a demon cop, you can fight the police properly. The secretary and the citizens seem to be able to use the art of battle, and if it's not unintentional, we'll be fine.

There are people who can, can, can, can help the injured, can protect them. While reassuring himself, [Thoughtful Owl] cast a spell to make school wound pills.

"Formerly the rooting companions, the rooting companions in the soil, the oil, all sorts of taming.

A union of green companions and life.

Groups are bound to one root of life in this world. "

In the hands of Awellana [the tears of the sorcerer] stretches out his power, crushing and scattering one after another.

I'm exhausted and can't get around to thinking.

I was exhausted, but I didn't want to rest.

Outside [the simplified junction] is full of cluttered demons with no definite form.

Things like melted bugs, things similar to humans, things like mixing beasts and plants, things that look nothing like anything else...... when there are so many, the boundaries of the individual are blurred, and we don't even know how many.

Lightly kicked away by the people of the lake and the powerful land.

It would be the power of [exorcism] sewn into clothes. When the wizard passes, that's all clumps of mischievous demons can avoid and make their way.

Miscellaneous demons have no fixed form or great power.

If you let the sun shine, it disappears. It's a miserable existence. For those who possess magic, they are simply blind, but a powerless people will be annoyed (ragged) by the slight unluck that the mischievous demons call in.

A young nurse fell on something. The pot of wound medicine cracks.

Miscellaneous demons are rare beings and do not have flesh as objects. Still, it can be a threat to a powerless people.

The nurse wakes herself up in a hurry, trying to pick up the fragments and collect them.

"Oh, fine, fine. I'll do it here. Look at him over there."

The funeral parlor rushes over.

"Excuse me......"

"Are you hurt? It was empty, and you don't have to worry."

The parking lot remains littered with pieces of glass and debris splashed with grenades. Now, where there are more pieces of barbecued pot, it doesn't make a big difference.

As the nurse walked away with many apologies, the funeral parlor pulled the fragments over the corner of the aisle with his feet.

"Use it, pharmacist."

The funeral parlor offers a handful of [sorcerer's tears]. Awellana received [tears] in both palms.

A small [tear] grain emits a pale light.

A dozen [tears] are the same number of lives themselves.

The same little grain as the real grain of tears.

It seems like all the young people in their late teens and twenties are in their hands right now.

"Why, all these young kids..."

"I went to City High School over there. I thought you might need medicine if you were in a shelter."

I didn't need any medicine.

There were countless bullet marks on the burn marks in the school building.

Maybe they raided it that it was becoming a shelter. The smoke was still smoking (dull), but the ashes had already been vandalized.

When the funeral parlor shed ashes in the pool water, there were still a few small grains of [tears] left.

Did the bodies of the dead take them, did the survivors take them away to protect themselves, or did the terrorists recover them as resources?

There was no answer to the burns of the deserted.

On the east side, there's not a single light.

The bright spots are still burning fires.

I guess the majority evacuated. There are no car lights either.

The funeral parlor prayed for the tranquillity of the dead to the goddess of the lake and [jumped] back to the hospital.