The bells rang once again.
The ocean stilled, and the raging winds froze.
Between the deathly silent sea and sky, that tiny figure walked toward the Rift World alone, leaning on his cane. He seemed so old that his body staggered slightly with every step, pausing and stumbling as he went.
He rested his weight on the ebony cane in his hand.
Yet somehow, when that gaunt, ancient body brought its negligible weight down with the cane, the entire Present World trembled faintly.
The ocean shuddered, and the mountains echoed, bursting into a vast Bell Toll.
Even the distant Shadow of Deepdark seemed to stir faintly before that solitary man.
Anvil Elder's expression shifted.
Within Deepdark, enormous figures emerged one after another, staring fixedly in the newcomer's direction, filled with apprehension, vigilance, and suspicion.
The undisputed strongest Artisan below the Association's Grandmasters, the Association's unquestionable trump card, only one step away from the Grandmaster realm—[Clock Tower]!
As a disciple of the Carrion Eater, he had joined the Imperial Senate more than a hundred and ten years ago, taking charge of the Empire Axis's maintenance and operation. He was hailed as the Artisan closest to the pinnacle of power, the Empire's uncrowned dragon.
Now, his entrance alone, his mere appearance, had put all of Deepdark on a war footing!
"...Now."
Anvil Elder raised his eyes. "Isn't it a little hasty to throw out your decisive trump card so casually?"
"Fast or slow, it's all the same. The sooner, the better. I'm tired of this."
Heavenly Furnace propped his chin on his hand, utterly unconcerned. "Besides, nobody said we couldn't play both jokers right at the start, did they? Or does Deepdark have no one left who dares accept the challenge?"
"Then let us continue."
Anvil Elder made his declaration and lowered