Four days. Ninety-six full hours since the first tremor that awakened one hundred and forty-two Colossi on the dead continent, not a single second passed without the whistle of blades, magical explosions, or the death roars of ancient giants.
In the graveyard dimension where the sky never knew sunrise or dusk, time was measured only by the number of fallen giant fossils and how many times the mana reserves within their cores were drained to the very brink of emptiness.
The surrounding landscape had completely transformed. The ancient mountains of bone that once stood in silence had been pulverized into a sea of fine, flour-like white calcium shards, mixed with pools of thick black miasma fluid smelling of rotten copper. Thousands of craters hundreds of meters in diameter, left by the impacts of gravity cannons and the explosions of the Spear of Longinus, scarred the skeletal continent like severe wounds on the body of a dying planet.
