Loren's Death

Early September.

Valhalla Canyon, deep in the night.

Located roughly three hundred kilometers beyond the eastern border of the Yarolan Kingdom, the canyon was crisscrossed by valleys and rugged terrain, making it a hidden shortcut into the Yarolan Kingdom.

Towering cliffs thousands of meters high rose on both sides of the canyon. Sharp peaks pierced the clouds, their hideous ravines resembling countless ghastly scars.

The bright moonlight spilled across the canyon walls, while strange vegetation swayed faintly in the night wind along the edges.

Yet the tranquility that should have been there had been shattered by the roar of battle.

Every clash was accompanied by the deafening thunder of collapsing rocks and falling trees.

Surging mana rampaged through the canyon. The roaring stream was forcibly driven back, flowing uphill through the air and letting out a rumbling howl.

The earth cracked again and again. Countless bottomless fissures meandered across the ground, splitting the canyon's bedrock layer by layer.

Wherever the terrifying magical aftershocks passed, everything was reduced to nothingness.

This was no longer a power that humans should possess.

At the center of the battlefield stood a woman in silver armor—the Undying Sword Saint Juliana of the Yarolan Kingdom.

Her armor was covered in crisscrossing wounds, and bright-red blood gushed from the cracks.

Even so, she still stood straight as a pine. The long sword in her hand gleamed white from hilt to tip, its edge radiating a chill that seemed capable of cleaving through countless illusions.

Facing her was a black-clad figure floating high in the sky.

He wore an ink-black robe and stood with his back to the night sky and full moon. He held a mechanical staff, and beneath the drifting mist, his handsome, cold face and indifferent eyes could be seen faintly. Yet those eyes glittered