Caine reappeared in the skies above the capital, his presence unnoticed by all. His dark robes fluttered ever so slightly under the pull of the harsh winds swirling around him.
His gaze swept across the battlefield below.
'Five minutes.'
He had spent five weeks within the Citadel, immersing himself in study and contemplation, yet in the outside world, a mere five minutes had passed.
'Peculiar.'
The horizon stretched endlessly before him, marred by the brutal chaos of war. The Holy Knights and their vast armies clashed ceaselessly against the relentless tide of divine beasts. The battlefield was an ever-churning sea of death—beastial roars intermingled with cries of valor, blood of both human and beast pooling into rivers that soaked the war-ravaged earth.
Caine took his time, carefully observing each segment of the battlefield. His hand slowly extended outward, his palm facing the carnage in the distance. Then, he closed his fingers into a fist.
He tightened his grip.
BOOOM!
