Her heart gradually cooled, accustomed to death, accustomed to farewells, accustomed to maintaining calmness amidst grief and eternal separation. She learned to smile at funerals, to be composed in the face of loss.
But...
"Really, dreaming of things from long ago."
The Hero opened her eyes, with a tranquil gaze, she watched the world split in two before her.
What lay before her was everything that had succumbed to depravity.
Arcane Surge—simply such a term, far from capturing that world-upending vista.
Like a flood heralding destruction, like a tsunami declaring the end, beneath the wings of the Great Demon, was a world where both the air and soil were saturated with malice, thoroughly twisted.
Dark clouds, corrupted soil, a poisonous atmosphere...
In this hellish world teemed Goblins, Black Treants, Magic Wind Elves, Depraved Flame... and those humans and Magic Creatures who had lost their original forms, distorted in posture, who were once kin and even companions.
