Kelly stared at the glowing formation, forcing herself to keep her boiling emotions under control. Around her the place was barren and dry, a wasteland barren of even the faintest sign of life.
Beyond the wasteland loomed massive mountains, each of them surrounding it in a circular arrangement.
I'd she could remember correctly, those where what the Bartender had called the Solaris mountain range.
A crowd of teenagers gathered in front of the barrier—some talking in tight circles, others standing around as if they owned the place. Most wore expensive gear, their weapons giving off a sharp, dangerous pulse.
And the crazy part? Almost none of them were below the Dust Wielder stage.
Kelly's jaw tightened. These were the nobles of Zathron. The commoners had barely survived the beast tide—most of them hadn't survived at all. They had been wiped out, torn apart while these nobles simply cruised overhead in their airships, watching the massacre unfold from above.
