Outside Freedom City, an old woman stood at the edge of a field, watching the crops that had been almost ripe wither rapidly.
The wind had reddened her face, and her eyes narrowed to slits filled with despair.
Plagues, monsters, natural disasters...
Heaven really would not let them live!
This crop was ruined. They would have to see how the next one fared.
The old woman was about to head home when she suddenly noticed something wrong.
She crouched down and scooped up a handful of soil.
It was dry and crumbly, trickling through her fingers.
She brought it to her nose and sniffed. It had no smell.
The soil used to have a scent-the earthy smell after rain, the scent of grass in spring, the scent of crops in autumn. Now there was nothing.
"It's over... it's all over... even the land is ruined..." she muttered, scattering the soil on the ground before turning to leave.
She did not look back.
The land could no longer grow crops. There was no way to survive...
An old man sat on the stone roller at the village entrance, gazing at the distant mountain.
It was still the same mountain, but its color was wrong.
It had once been green. Now it was gray.
The trees had died, the grass had withered, and even the rocks had turned brittle.
"This world is coming to an end," he said, as though sensing something.
Beside him, a child gnawing on a shriveled wild fruit looked puzzled at his words.
The world was coming to an end?
What did that mean?
"The plague didn't kill us all, and the monsters didn't eat us all. Now even heaven has abandoned us."
The old man rose and headed into the village, leaning on his walking stick.