"A powerful man disappeared, along with the guild that had once been the kingdom's greatest..." An old man holding a newspaper sighed as he spoke to the students listening attentively before him.
"If he were still here, I'm sure he would be the strongest man of our age! The man crowned with the title of the strongest..."
"After all, he remains The Unique person ever to have crippled that legendary Calamity Black Dragon, Acnologia! His Excellency, the True God of Death—"
Putting down the tattered newspaper, the old man murmured softly, seemingly addressing his students, yet seemingly only talking to himself, "What a pity. Was this a loss for our age? The greatest loss of this age..."
On that tattered newspaper, a row of startlingly large words stood out:
The fall of the God of Death, the withering of fate. The man crowned the strongest stood proud with the bearing of an absolute powerhouse! Looking down upon the world from its very summit—
Beneath those large words was another line:
Was this humanity's glory, or the end of an age? No one knew... All we could know was that humanity might be able to stand against the pinnacle of the world, but that was as far as it could go...
This was an era of upheaval, a chapter of history in which one age gave way to another. The Destruction of Wolf Island seemed to have become a catalyst for that change. After serving for a long time as a subject of sighs and conversation over meals and tea, it was soon forgotten. Time was always cruel, after all, and it could wear away every ripple left by history.
Humans were often creatures who remembered only what lay before their eyes and saw only the path ahead. No matter how