He even saw a person.
It was a middle-aged man wearing black-rimmed glasses and carrying a briefcase, walking toward him. For a moment, Brando almost raised his hand to greet him—
Everything was just like the old days.
That was his teacher, who had occupied an extremely important part of his memories during his youth. He even remembered that the man had a daughter—a lively little girl.
But how many years ago had that memory been?
Ten years?
Twenty years?
Brando watched in astonishment as the man passed by him.
Then everything vanished without a trace.
"Lady Martha, this is..." Brando felt that his voice was slightly hoarse.
"My child." Lady Martha's gentle voice echoed. "Everyone has a past of their own. We're no different—the Divine People once came from a world like this one. That world was destroyed by war, and the survivors were called the First Generation. They were the Ancients, or the Matataniya people—in other words, the Travelers. They carried everything from their former world as they traveled through countless worlds, until they came to this one..."
"That was the story from before the First Era. Through the joint efforts of the Ancients, we built everything. I created this world and named it Vonder."
"However, the civilization and order we brought from our former world were so incompatible with this brand-new world. When the old and new orders clashed, this world's hostility—the Twilight Dragon—awoke from the chaos."
"...And so began the war that had lasted from time immemorial until the present."
Although this was not the first time Brando had heard someone recount this history, Martha's personal description still filled him with yearning for that epic, magnificent past: the inheritance of civilization between two worlds. The predecessors of the Spellweavers had used their almost godlike power to