Prologue – Beneath the Tyrannical Night

The wind, a restless phantom, roamed across the wilderness.

It howled, a ravenous cry, yearning to hunt down every lost prey.

Night, an ultimate darkness, descended upon the celestial canopy.

It veiled all light, consigning every living thing to dead silence, forcing submission under its tyrannical dominion.

This was a world devoid of light.

The Traveler gasped for breath in the desolate wilderness, seemingly advancing without purpose.

Ahead lay an endless expanse of darkness, yet she was already utterly spent.

With no strength left, she could only gaze up at the tyrannical ruler above, recalling the tales sung countless times by bards of old.

Perhaps, long, long ago, this world had a sun.

The sky had never been so dim, for light and warmth once pierced through the clouds, scattering upon all creation.

Life had flourished gloriously throughout this world.

Finally, the weary Traveler, unable to bear the burden any longer, halted her steps.

She leaned her body feebly against a massive, exposed rock, gasping for breath again and again.

The searing pain in her feet, the gnawing hunger in her belly, the parched dryness of her throat, the relentless pull of sleep in her mind—all conspired to push her to the precipice of despair.

Thus, the Traveler found herself contemplating, her gaze sweeping across the barren desert, the dim twilight of midday, and the boundless abyss.

A thought naturally arose within her:

[In a world such as this, what meaning is there in living?]

The shrill gale shrieked past her ears, and mingling with its cry were a few low growls.

Wolves.

They pursued flesh and blood, seeking to sate their eternally hollow vessels.

They moved concealed within the endless night, tearing at every forsaken soul.

[But, ‘Live on,’ someone seems to have told me.]

Struggling, the Traveler rose to her feet.

Slowly, she drew the longsword from her back, her trembling hands resolutely raising it, pointing its tip towards the unknown darkness.

[Therefore, I simply choose to believe.]

The pack of wolves gradually materialized from the shroud of night.

They had already encircled their prey, their eyes brimming with hunger and frenzy, fixed intently upon her, awaiting only the moment of their harvest.

[Believing that this time, too, it will surely happen.]

Light bloomed along the blade.

The fierce wind swirled as if guided, dancing around her.

Claws extended, bloodied jaws gaped open, and in a single instant, wolves surged forward amidst a flash of sword light.

[It will surely happen.]

“Hraaaaaah!”

Then, in the chaotic clash.

Clang!

[Live on.]