The Haslita Woods is the forest leftmost of the mountain where the evacuation site is. The sun-dappled leaves create flickering shadows on the ground together with the noon light. Moss winds around trunks as it caught dead leaves and pine needles. Beyond is the hidden hideout of the Octagon’s auxiliary unit, but Argos has no idea of any trademark, only the directions.
Birds call as the insects hum. Together with the wind, Argos rustles through leaves as he sprints with the fullest of his energy. He left no time for doubt and enabled his greediness. Suddenly, he stops after noticing someone leaning behind a tree. The girl noticed it and came out.
“Right decision. If I were you, I would stop right now,” the girl with black hair ponytail, and wide crimson eyes who wears light clothing said.
“Just whose business are you trying to get in? ‘cause I’m in a hurry saving a friend,” Argos said with a raised brow.
“The
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