Thick, pitch-black clouds pressed down upon this vast expanse of sea, blocking all sunlight from penetrating its depths. Dark energy permeated these waters, rendering them not only pitch-black but also fraught with unseen perils. It was as if a giant hand firmly grasped this place. This was an island in the central area of the Realm of Pitch Darkness, but the island had long been devoid of living creatures. All that remained were the skeletons and undead—creatures that had perished in the dark outburst, only to be reanimated. A young man was leaning against the wall of a not-yet-completely-collapsed ruin of a house, panting heavily.
His short, jet-black hair was tucked under a small flat cap, and he wore a slightly worn brown leather jacket. The collar of a cotton undershirt peeked out from the neckline. Apart from the rings on each thumb, his most conspicuous feature was the metal chest he carried on his back. The silver chest was adorned with patterns of religious motifs.
