A man appeared before Ronan.
He had blue-golden eyes, and frost hair as beautiful as Ronan's.
His appearance wasn't handsome, yet he possessed a monumental charm that spanned the river of time and encapsulated eternity.
Standing beside Ronan, he stood shoulder to shoulder with him, speaking as if he were an old friend.
"Edashir, a tribe located on the Extreme North Frozen Soil.
In Aoling Language, it means 'Children of Ice Marks'...."
"Aoling Language?"
Ronan blinked, looking at the man before him.
The man chuckled softly and explained, "It was a language once used by the gods before the Ancient Times. After the gods exited the stage, the Aoling Language gradually became obsolete and forgotten...."
As he spoke, the man raised his hand, gently sweeping it through the void before them.
In an instant, Ronan saw the eternal ice fields before him gently turned like a thick, ancient scroll under the man's touch.
A new scene unfolded before him.
