The battle in the outskirts was over, but the true crisis had only just begun.
Deep within the heart of the Elven Continent, something far worse stirred.
The waves of monsters weren't just random outbreaks from the dungeons—they were being controlled, guided by something ancient and sinister. It was certainly the work of the enemy under the command of one or two apostles.
Noire, still in her World Devourer Wolf form, and Alice, her amber eyes glowing, stood atop a mountain ridge, gazing down at the endless sea of abominations swarming through the massive, ancient forest below.
The once sacred lands of the elves were now a battlefield, the once-pristine trees now scorched, shattered, and covered in blood.
Alice exhaled softly, unbothered by the destruction.
"How nostalgic," she murmured.
Noire let out a low growl. "You've seen this before?"
Alice tilted her head, a hint of amusement in her violet gaze. "A world devoured, yes. This? This is merely a prelude."
