A drizzle fell.
A rich scent of blood blanketed the plain, revealing a massive chasm ahead—the earth torn apart by some terrifying power. Farther away, ancient trees still burned, the flames defying even the rain. The corpses of orcs and elves mingled together, densely piled at the front lines, surrounded by shattered armor and weapons. Not far away lay the carcass of a giant bear, a behemoth easily four to five meters tall in life, now slain by a massive battleaxe.
A fierce battle had clearly taken place here.
Judging from the state of the battlefield, neither side had secured a definitive victory, though the elven casualties were evidently heavier.
It was still a peaceful day in Port Nyanzaru.
As April drew to a close, the impending shock finally erupted.
The elves and orcs had gone to war, and the ultimate result was that there were no victors. The strengths of the Elven Pantheon and the Orc Pantheon were roughly matched, leaving neither side able to completely defeat the other. Information regarding the Goddess of Fortune and the Goddess of Misfortune also multiplied. Though these Twins of Fate had not yet clashed directly, their covert struggle grew increasingly obvious. What caught Soren's attention in particular was that the avatar of the Goddess of Fortune seemed to have appeared in Arendelle; he had previously encountered the avatar of the Goddess of Misfortune near Arendelle as well.
Everything seemed largely unchanged.
Time slipped away bit by bit, and the adventurer squad Soren dispatched had already reached the Pirate Isle. News from the Eastern Realm was also favorable, as Goria's Witches' Coven had established a base in the New Continent.
Yet!
Everything ended in May.
It seemed like an ordinary day, at least throughout the morning.
When afternoon arrived, however, everything in