Time passed swiftly. In the blink of an eye, another two hundred thousand years had flown by—by this point, the "President" had already been mysteriously missing for three hundred and fifty thousand years. The changes of seas and fields were no exaggeration even among mortals, and even for Legendary professionals, such an immense passage of time was not something to be ignored lightly. After all, this was a staggering four hundred thousand years. Two full generations of ordinary Legends had arisen, and those professionals once called "supernovas," "the strongest newcomers," and "promising talents" had, provided they had not fallen, become genuine "legendary seniors."
The legendary tales of the past had long begun to fade into obscurity beneath the wash of so much time. Many pieces of news that had once shaken the entire Multiverse had silently turned into vague and inexplicable rumors. History, in the end, was like a beach battered by ocean waves—left utterly clean. However many stirring tragedies there had been, in the end they became no more than a few lines of casual conversation.
Yet although the universe of eternal night still shimmered beneath the stars, although mortal kingdoms still cycled through birth and destruction, the Legendary landscape of the Multiverse had undergone extraordinary changes during these unusual three hundred and fifty thousand years. If it had to be explained, then the Tide of Fate had grown ever fiercer, while the condition of the Legendary Island had become increasingly apparent—and increasingly dangerous.
What else could be expected? Before his death, Archmage Mestur had left behind something as incredible as Piknat's Soul Fusion Technique. It was a powerful spell said to be capable of advancing one to the divine throne. How could any ambitious professional possibly not be interested in it?
Just as a cold-blooded spellcaster and a