The distant Nas Royal Capital trembles.
Witches fall in great numbers, and countless knights collapse in pools of blood.
The entire world seems to have turned crimson, with wails, cries of pain, roars, and shouts merging into a sea of catastrophe.
Billions of creatures are under invasion by the Demon Realm, and calamity pervades the land, sparing no one.
Fu Qingjun walks slowly, "War was not of my making. I bestowed upon them life."
"Yet, where there is life, there is war in this world."
"The era... has suddenly been obliterated. Whoever first gains the advantage in the Fourth Realm shall rule the world." Fu Qingjun walks silently upon the earth, gazing quietly at the fleeing people.
He crouches slightly, touching a child's small rattle-like toy, stained with sacrificial blood,
feeling an immense weight.
The momentum of the world, the tidal waves of history, the iterative development of mythological civilizations...
