【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

Chapter 501 [Empire] Juice Scones

A few days later, the morning sky remained gray, thick clouds obscuring the planet's otherwise warm sunlight. A chilly, damp air hung in the air. The atmosphere in front of the gate remained silent, with only a few soldiers occasionally passing by, busily completing final cleanup and repair work. The post-battle silence seemed to freeze everything in the present moment. All the noise and excitement had faded, leaving only an empty space and a lingering weariness within everyone.

We began our shifts, taking turns standing guard at the gate each day. Each squad member was assigned the task of setting up a makeshift tent, constructed of windproof fabric and a makeshift wooden frame. While crude, the tent provided a modicum of warmth. Each time it was our turn to stand guard, we would close the tent tightly to protect ourselves from the chilly winds that blew in from all directions. Inside, the tents were bare-bones, just a few simple beds made with military blankets and the basic gear we carried.

I stood outside the tent, gazing at the battlefield as it gradually returned to calm. The soldiers, having cleared the enemy, began to organize their equipment and dispatch supplies, their work busily yet methodically. The role of us students grew increasingly blurred, as if we were merely a minor episode in the battle, with no real victory and no substantial contribution. All the glory and honor seemed to belong to the true warriors, while we were mere spectators, our simple duty of standing guard seeming somewhat hollow.

The nighttime chill was even more biting, the temperature difference between inside and outside the tent almost impossible to adjust to. Whenever it was my turn to stand guard outside, the icy wind made it nearly impossible to open my eyes, my fingers freezing. The rest of the team was also silent, as if everyone had grown accustomed to this silent waiting, this sense of loss that came with navigating between missions.

Occasionally, we can hear some voices from afar, the orders of distant soldiers, or the dull roar of machinery, which seem to remind us that this war is not over, although all we can do is watch and stand guard.

When we were on guard duty, the hours seemed to stretch uncomfortably long. Whenever a new member arrived to relieve us, Qianmo and I could retreat to the tent for a moment, snuggling under the covers for warmth. But even this comfortable environment couldn't dispel the heaviness weighing on our hearts. Every time we closed our eyes, the aftermath of the battle surfaced in our minds, the scent of blood still lingering in the air. The silence after the slaughter, the unspoken oppression, clung to us like a shadow, impossible to shake off.

Our mission, however, remains to guard the gate, to stand guard. Whenever this thought occurs to me, I chuckle to myself. Always watching from the sidelines, always waiting for the next order, yet never actually taking action?

I really don't understand. I whispered to myself, as if searching for an answer.

We didn't speak to each other.

We sat at the edge of our simple camp, surrounded by a gray sky and cold air. Occasional gusts of wind brought snowflakes to the ground, silently blanketing it. In our hands were juice and scones, a unique treat of this planet. Though these two foods looked simple, they seemed to be our only comfort in this silent battlefield.

The juice, extracted from a fruit unique to this planet, is a murky, dark green liquid with a rich aroma, hinting at the freshness of grass and a hint of fermented sweetness. The first time I sipped it, I was stunned by its texture. The tartness of the juice hits my tongue, but it's quickly overcome by the subtle sweetness and fruity aroma. The flavor has a unique layering, a blend of sour, sweet, and herbal notes that can be a little difficult to adjust to at first.

We sipped the juice carefully, swallowing it slowly. Each sip seemed to carry a hint of life force, as if it could instantly warm our cold bodies. The sour taste stimulated our tongues, causing us to squint our eyes involuntarily, as if searching for the perfect balance to maximize our enjoyment.

Scones are a simpler treat, with a slightly crispy exterior and an alluring wheat aroma. Simply baked, the aroma of flour is lightly charred by the flames, the crust becomes golden and crispy, and there's a crackling sound when you bite into it. Though seemingly ordinary, they offer the simplest of satisfactions. The filling is simple, just a hint of salt and a coarse wheat aroma, yet each bite is surprisingly comforting.

Qianmo and I sat on a stone bench not far away, occasionally exchanging a few words. Most of the time, we just ate the food quietly, tacitly enjoying this rare moment of tranquility.

The surroundings were quiet, with only the gentle breeze bringing a slight chill. We sipped our juice carefully, mouthful after mouthful, while the heat of the scones slowly dissipated in the cold air, bringing a hint of warmth to our bodies with every bite.

"Well, it's still quite delicious." I said softly, even though the taste was a bit unfamiliar.

Qianmo just nodded, lowered his head and continued to bite the pancake in his hand, with a slight smile on his lips.