The general had brought your troop to an area for a battle, and all was done.

But you were a sunshine, the first word that came to one’s mind when thinking of you would be ‘happy’ or ‘carefree’. He had worried about bringing you, thinking you wouldn’t be able to handle gore when you cry after a spider gets stomped on.

But no no no, of course not. You were out there, stabbing and drilling your knife into an already dead body. They were trying to head to the vehicle, some treating others wounds.

He stared at you, a bit dumbfounded. His doberman stayed at his side, completely still.

“Damn…” He mumbled. At this point, he might have to literally drug you to calm you down.