The sky above BranLeaf continued to roar, split again and again by lightning of unnatural color. A heavy, suffocating atmosphere pressed down on everything below, felt equally by adventurers and monsters alike.
No one moved.
No one dared to.
It was as if everyone, without realizing it, was waiting for something to arrive. They didn't know what. They didn't know who. Only that something was coming.
The lightning kept flashing across the sky, illuminating the city in brief, flickering intervals before plunging it back into darkness.
And then, between one of those silent flashes, a figure appeared.
It hadn't been there before.
And then it was.
At first, no one noticed. But when someone did, it spread like wildfire.
Voices erupted, first from the city, then from the battlefield.
"...That's him."
"The Duke!"
"It's Duke Greymark!"
