In Kolo, ancient ruins with weighty histories like the Hill of Nameless Warriors were countless. Throughout the ten thousand years of unceasing assaults by the Chaos Tide, brave warriors, great emperors, wise scholars, undefeated generals—in short, one after another, figures who had once shone brightly in history—had all sunk into that seemingly endless darkness. No matter how stirring the epic or how radiant the great man, all were crushed to pieces beneath the ceaselessly turning war machine of the Kolo World, consumed like the cheapest expendable supplies over the vast span of millennia.
Just as the great elven emperor from six thousand years ago had once nearly unified an entire continent and fought valiantly against chaos, yet in the end even his name had been drowned in the river of history. His empire had vanished without a trace, leaving not even a single brick or tile behind. Only the wisest and most learned scholars could find a few scattered descriptions of him in old texts, and then recount the story of that ancient emperor in the least reliable manner possible.
In Kolo, all of this was commonplace.
But Hao Ren, an outsider looking on, could not take it calmly. As an inspector, he found it difficult to accept a civilization sinking into darkness like this. For ten thousand years, the mortal races of Kolo had been turning in circles on the battlefield, expending all their strength in a meaningless stalemate with the forces of chaos. Something was wrong with this world. He felt that he had to find a way to uncover the truth behind it.
After bidding farewell to the Hill of Nameless Warriors, the group quickened their pace. Veronica hoped to reach the border of the Shadow Jungle before the day ended. She had already confirmed their direction,