"What's happening?"
At the forward base of the Hayes army, panic rippled through the ranks. The commander, still reeling from the escape of a legendary demon, froze when the sky itself began to sing. The terrible sound that clawed at the soul.
In that same moment was when sanity nearly completely faltered.
Above, a vast world of black and crimson descended, a shadow that dwarfed their own. The crystal walls that once shielded their plane were fracturing, not by tools or alchemy but by sheer force, visible as jagged cracks like shattered glass spreading across the heavens. The descent of the Endless Abyss had torn the veil apart.
"What kind of world is this…?" the commander whispered.
He had seen worlds fall before, but none like this. Before the Abyss, even he, hardened by countless campaigns, trembled. He felt it in his bones: his existence, his world, all of it felt insignificant.
All his strategies, and his victories, felt so small, so meaningless.
