Four figures emerged from the forest.
They were beastfolk—each one bearing very strong animalistic traits, far more than the average.
The man from before, the Arachne, was the same. Their talk of "a world without discrimination" surely had something to do with their appearance, Stella thought.
Humans naturally try to exclude what looks too different from themselves.
That pain… that suffering… Stella understood better than anyone.
After all, she had been persecuted even by her own kind.
The memories of her kin's stares, the whispered insults—like festering wounds—still caused her chest to ache.
And yet, despite all that…She didn't show even a hint of sympathy or pity.
She raised her staff—and fought.
Whether one-on-one or against a group, Stella was no stranger to battle.
She had always fought on the front lines, walking the edge of life and death, dancing a deadly tapdance with fate to survive.
