Central Plains, 370 kilometers north of City No. 18, lay a place once known as the Impact Plain, named for the spring ice run of the Spring Thunder River.
In winter, a layer of ice formed over the Spring Thunder River. When spring arrived, the ice gradually broke apart, and the current drove sheet after sheet of ice onto the banks, making them resemble glistening fish scales.
At this moment, a ten-kilometer-wide piece of amber stretched across the plain. The Giant Whale, the Eight-headed Serpent, the mirage, the Fate Weavers, the floating airships, and three Aerial Fortresses—all had been frozen in time within the amber, transformed into a museum of war.
At the edge of the lake, Duke of Storm stood silently. The aged king looked at the Fate Weaver by the shore and said, "This is my father—your grandfather. He slept in the Golden Coffin for thirty-eight years for this very day, using his life to forge a throne for a new era for the Fate Weaver family. He did this. I will do the same. And one day, so will you.
"Our Fate Weaver family rose step by step from chaotic times. Half of that was thanks to God's perspective, and the other half was the determination of generation after generation to sacrifice themselves. That is what gave us a place in this world."
"I understand, Father," Duke of Storm replied calmly.
"I will give everything I have for the family."
The aged King of Roosevelt stroked the edge of the amber. "Go. Take the Forbidden Item Ant Queen and twenty thousand Beastman Army soldiers to the place where I last saw destiny's end. That is the final battlefield. The kingdom is yours now. The world will be yours as well."
"Father, where are you going?" Duke of