Time would always pass. That was a fact no human will could change. Though we used every means to stop time from slipping mercilessly away, in truth, faced with this power that stood above everything in the world, mortal efforts always seemed so futile.
It was undeniably ironic, but in truth, that helplessness before the passage of time was also like the cruelest whip, constantly lashing mortals, driving them to unleash all their potential within their limited time, making their lives like a brilliant, fleeting display of fireworks, without eternity, with only a moment's splendor.
Yet it was precisely this momentary splendor that made it easier for heroes celebrated throughout the world to emerge among mortals. Once mortal civilizations truly matured, their rate of progress, led by these spirits, far exceeded that of the long-lived races. Soon, perhaps in a dozen years, perhaps in several decades, a few centuries at most, the world once firmly occupied by the long-lived races would fall into their hands.
Mortals were shortsighted, ignorant, greedy, malicious, and vicious.
But they were also brave and upright, willing to acknowledge their own imperfections and then seek the meaning of perfection within their brief lives. One thing was certain: this perfection was absolutely not the meaning the long-lived races sought.
These were the only reflections in the hearts of Baron's trio as they stood beneath Ulduar's walls, looking up at this Titans City sheltered beyond time.
Before this city, which had stood here since the world first appeared, everything became meaningless. Before it, Baron, Swen, and even Master Rommath, who stood a short distance away carefully stroking the walls, all stood at the same starting line.
Age and race alike became meaningless. Before this city, they were like newborn children who had only just learned to walk.
Everything