A few moments earlier,
The cliff overlooked the sleeping city across the sea. Mist rolled over its rooftops, veiling the skyline in a ghostly haze. From this height, the metropolis looked fragile... like a painting waiting to be burned.
The man at the summit did not move. His cloak whipped in the salt wind, his eyes fixed on the horizon as the sky began to turn. Shadows bloomed across the heavens, dark clouds swirling as if answering his call.
The air grew heavy. Thunder rumbled deep in the clouds. Yet his breath was calm, steady. For him, the storm was not a threat. It was a tool.
"The Crying Maestro… it's time for you to cry even more."
*Bwuuung~
"Hmm?"
Dark smoke bled into existence behind him, twisting and coiling like tendrils of fire turned black. Within the haze, a mask surfaced, carved like a Barong's face.
Lord One.
