September is near.
A sudden storm hit the coastal region of the Phaletis Kingdom along the Black Sea.
Swish... swish... swish...
In the midst of the white, blurred curtain of rain, an abandoned manor stood quietly on the outskirts upstream of the Taim River, which runs through the Royal Capital Bekele, and beyond the city limits.
The wrought-iron gate was mottled and rusty, as if it could fall with a gentle push, and the windows and doors inside were damaged and incomplete, as if they had been looted several times. Wild grass, thorns, and even small shrubs had completely taken over every inch inside and outside the manor.
However, now.
The dilapidated main building of the manor was occupied by a group of uninvited guests after a simple repair, taking advantage of the storm that seemed to sever the world, to initiate a long-prepared conspiracy.
In the original banquet hall, a ghostly green campfire was burning fiercely, and prayers buzzing like flies urged people to vomit.
