Darkness loomed across the infant realm.
Both moon and stars were present, but the clouds blocked their full radiance like a torn curtain.
Ahead—hollow hail was carried by the wind and slammed into High Lord Rashal's body and shattered into tiny fragments. And on the side, the dark ocean sprawled. Its waves were carried by the current and splashed against the shore, reaching his feet.
The sound of the waves and the hail seized the moment, muting everything else around.
But High Lord Rashal could still hear his own heartbeat.
And though he couldn't hear the steady breaths of the others behind, he knew that they were there, ready to fight alongside him in this grand battle. In the battlefield of darkness, he didn't feel isolated or alone; the people he trusted for this battle were there with him.
For that, there was no need to be afraid.
In his all-white, High Lord Rashal didn't bring any weapon—he didn't need to.
