That sigh seemed to cross the ages, carrying a weariness that could drag the entire universe into eternal sleep. It rang out in the depths of every soul.
The fierce will to fight that fear and the desire to survive had just ignited was doused like a flame beneath a bucket of ice water.
Across the battlefield, the charging warriors slowed against their will. The savage light in their eyes faded, replaced by exhaustion that seemed to seep from their bones.
"So... tired..."
A warrior's spear clattered to the ground. He stared blankly at his hands. Simply raising an arm felt as though it would drain every last scrap of his strength.
He wanted to keep fighting, but another, stronger thought clamored through his mind: Let it go. Lie down. It's all over. What's the point of fighting?
Thud.
He dropped to his knees, then slowly lay down and curled into a ball. A trace of peaceful relief even appeared on his face.
He was neither the first nor the last.
Hundreds, then thousands of warriors fell in swathes like harvested wheat. They gave up resisting and sank into sleep amid the battlefield's mud.
Only the five newly born Apostles managed to resist the soul-eroding weariness, drawing on the Divine Might flowing through them.
Even so, they were in dire straits.
"What... what kind of power is this...?"
The Tidal Apostle wielding the Ice Hammer felt as though the armor formed from his Divine Might now weighed as much as a mountain. Every step demanded an unimaginable effort.
The Divine Might within him moved sluggishly, as though mired in a swamp.
An eerie silence settled over the entire battlefield.
Within that silence, the churning Gray Mist at the boundary finally grew still.
The mist slowly parted to either side, like