To The New World

Frederick's gaze darkened, tinged with sorrow. "Then tell me, Lyra—did you ever think of sparing us?"

His question, sudden and cryptic, silenced the crowd. Those who had gathered from Central City to witness the confrontation erupted into curses, directing their rage at Frederick and the military.

Overhead, the Legion of the Long Night fleet arrived, cutting through the tension with its ominous presence.

Amid the growing uproar, Lyra lowered her gaze. A faint, bitter smile curved her lips as she murmured, "This human society… it's truly rotten to the core."

Her long black braid stirred unnaturally in the still air. The silver-white clasp at its end clicked open, releasing the strands to float freely.

The ground trembled beneath their feet, and the air quivered as if imbued with life.

A primal fear took hold of every soul, deep and inescapable.