34
Four hundred years ago, when half an island was hurled into the sky by the Knock Up Stream, the residents of Angel Island who first discovered it fell to their knees and called the accident a miracle.
But to the people who already lived on that land, it was no blessing. It was an invasion.
And so war began.
Sporadic, recurring, hatred fermented and swelled over four hundred years.
Gold? It was nothing but stones underfoot, too heavy even to prop up a pillow.
Just then, the whistle of something cutting through the air pierced their eardrums.
Several figures shot out from the edge of the dense forest.
Their ** upper bodies were covered in indigo and ocher-red patterns, and the animal hides around their waists fluttered as they moved at high speed.
On their backs were not the downward-drooping wings of Angel Island's residents, but sharply upturned shapes like skeletal wings.
The boards beneath their feet spewed turbulent air, and the weapons in their hands reflected the cold metallic gleam of something that did not belong to this era-long-barreled **, and humming curved blades.
Those figures charged straight toward the ship with undisguised hostility.
Rossi raised a hand, brushing his knuckles over the fresh stubble on his chin.
He suddenly recalled a question he had heard long ago: how could you stop two beasts from tearing at each other?
The answer was simple.
Throw in an even fiercer beast.
Angel Island and the Shandia People had been locked in conflict for four hundred years.
One side occupied the land, while the other launched repeated raids from deep in the jungle.
Blood debts piled upon blood debts, and the population remained sparse.
Even if the man known as "God"
Gan Fall, was now willing to extend a hand in