In the deepest part of darkness, where outsiders have no way of knowing, exists such a space.
Inside, it is filled with stitched monsters, twisted limbs, and grotesque flesh.
In this space, which can only be described as fallen, corrupted, and eerie, two figures who totally mismatch their surroundings stroll leisurely.
If someone could witness this scene, they would surely feel a sense of unreality.
The white-haired boy, with a gentle smile, appears to be wrapped in a layer of hazy light like a white veil, and no profane object can approach his body.
The decaying mist automatically parts to his sides before him, and the filthy black blood instinctively avoids his soles, returning to its original state once he passes.
And the Dark Elf gives yet another feeling.
Clearly the instigator of all this, but her very existence stands in stark contrast to this place.
This feeling is very strange.
Extreme purity.
Even an otherworldly detachment.
