An hour ago.
Ashen Expanse.
The Ashen Expanse was no place for the sane.
Volcanic smoke belched from cracked earth like the breath of slumbering giants, rivers of magma whispered lullabies of agony, and the skies above boiled with red haze.
Here, corrupted beasts roamed unchecked, mutated beyond reason, and even mana itself seemed to warp and writhe in discomfort.
Yet, two figures stood still, unmoved.
One was a man carved from silence and command: Argon Von Vaise, a cloak of midnight draped over broad shoulders, black hair pulled tight, his face sharp enough to cut stone and twice as cold.
His gaze surveyed the expanse like a judge waiting for sin to confess itself.
Beside him… was a lunatic in a robe.
"CRIMSON MUSHROOMS!" Screamed Crisaius, bent at the waist with his nose inches from a glowing, clearly dangerous fungus. "Don't eat these. Unless you hate your kidneys. Oh-ho! It jiggles when I poke it—!"
