One hundred eighty-six years.
This length of time is neither long nor short.
A full nine generations... it's enough for a dynasty to rise and fall, but perhaps not enough to make the Mist Continent unrecognizable.
...However, reality seems somewhat different from what Annan imagined.
The pace of progress in this world far exceeds Annan's expectations.
If this land hasn't changed its name, then the location Annan stands upon now should be called the "Holy Mountain Duchy," under the jurisdiction of the Empire. Its ruler should be the descendants of Annan and Kafney.
But what unfolds before Annan's eyes is an awe-inspiring spectacle, stark enough to silence him—
A towering steel metropolis stretching into the clouds, resembling a colossal Holy Grail.
