The final three days before the decisive battle arrived.
The entire New Continent was shrouded in an invisible gloom, sinking into an atmosphere that was both tranquil and eerie.
The Super Territory, usually bustling and packed with people, now seemed like an empty city. The few figures wandering its streets were all staff responsible for keeping the territory running.
The small and medium-sized territories, which already had sparse populations, seemed to be under martial law. The occasional pedestrians hurried along with panicked expressions, rushing back to their homes and unwilling to linger outside for even a second.
It seemed everyone had been consumed by fear, leaving no room for any other thoughts.
Even the factories throughout the major territories had long since shut down completely. The machines no longer roared, and the chimneys no longer belched smoke.
The factory owners sat restlessly in their empty workshops, gazing at the dark sky outside. They had completely lost their usual desire to make money.
Everyone understood that if humanity lost this decisive battle, then no matter how much wealth they had amassed, it would be nothing more than a pile of meaningless numbers.
Their former dreams and pursuit of profit had become insignificant at this moment.
This included the territories of The Big Three Families.
The streets and alleys had become a complete mess. The once-bustling stalls had all been abandoned, their owners no longer in the mood to do business and instead choosing to return home and reunite with their families.
The city lights also seemed unusually dim, flickering from time to time as though mourning the decisive battle that was about to begin.
Some rubbish swirled and drifted above the territory, carried along by the howling wind.
It had to be said that during these final three days, the entire