Mid-July of the first year of the Wasteland.
The sun and moon shone anew, and the temperature began to rise.
After Adam's tireless efforts to repair them, the long-vanished sun and moon finally reappeared in the sky.
Although, in terms of the light they cast, even the sun was scarcely brighter than the faint ray that had previously hung on the horizon.
Still, hope of recovery had finally returned.
Whether they were foreign races or humans, everyone once again saw the possibility of the sun and moon's revival.
In contrast, the conflicts that had plunged the New Continent into chaos for more than a month had finally reached their end.
One super-powered foreign race after another entered the stage and redrew the boundaries of the New Continent.
The defeated began quietly withdrawing from the battlefield, retreating into corners to lick their wounds while awaiting a comeback.
The victors absorbed the land and resources, bringing them under their own rule and further expanding their gains from the sudden war.
Under this tacit agreement, as the disaster's period of cessation drew near, the New Continent finally settled down once more.
More and more merchant groups began preparing supplies and set out along the routes they had planned beforehand.
At that time, in a difficult-to-traverse snow-filled ravine in the central New Continent, near the Ten Thousand Mile Mountains,
dozens of palm-sized birds suddenly took flight from the previously tranquil ravine, fleeing in panic toward the surrounding mountains.
They flapped their wings desperately, but more and more sharp arrows shot up from below, piercing the birds and sending them tumbling diagonally into the snow.
Before long, after all the birds visible to the naked eye had flown away,
heads began appearing in the seemingly deserted ravine, gradually revealing more than sixty human figures.
"These