Three years.
The gloomy sky had persisted for three years.
At night, it was almost pitch-black, impossible to see one's hand in front of one's face. Daytime was slightly better, but only the faintest sunlight reached the ground. Looking up, it seemed like the moment before a storm arrived.
At the beginning of those three years, most people had not thought much of it. Compared to the sky overhead, they cared more about their own lives and how to earn enough to support themselves.
But gradually, things began to change—because of the prolonged lack of sunlight, crops in the fields started to yellow and wither. Trees lost their green, forests became woods, woods became grasslands, and grasslands became wastelands...
The temperature kept falling, and everything felt as if winter had come early.
But this winter was too terrifying. It might have been the most dreadful and longest winter many people had ever experienced—harvests nearly failed entirely, livestock died in droves, prices soared everywhere, and society fell into turmoil.
A demon called "famine" had descended upon the world and ravaged it.
Within just a few months, everything else in the world had become unimportant. Nearly everyone thought about only one question—where and how could they find food, and how could they survive?
Guided by something, some people left their settlements and fled west. Others ran east, south, or north.
Countless once-prosperous cities were abandoned. Even some small kingdoms and duchies vanished silently from the map.
By the time three years had passed, the world no longer resembled what it once was.
Sometimes, the world changed slowly. But sometimes, it changed unimaginably fast—especially when someone was guiding it.
Three years later.
It was August 25th of the third year of what people called either the Black Era or the New Era.