The lead-gray clouds, like solidified iron slag, pressed Rose Valley town firmly against the earth.
Looking around at the ruined streets, among shattered glazed tiles and charred walls lay soldiers' corpses and the remnants of slain Demons.
The townsfolk huddled in the crowded Church; the metallic scent of rain stirred waves of fishy stench, which permeated the sanctuary—the odor of the debauched fiends.
But now, everyone held their breath. The oppressive weight from the sky felt like ten thousand quintals of gravity.
"Sword…"
Under the gloomy sky and above the fading sea of flowers, the Sword King hovered in midair. The despair radiating from him rivaled the Evil Power unleashed by Greater Demon Shava.
Rain soaked his long hair. He lowered his eyes to the iridescent longsword in his hand—its rainbow glow flickering like a dying candle—while his body resembled kindling set ablaze.
Yes, he was beginning to burn away his own life.
