The eve of war suffocated Solfea.
Sleep became a distant memory. No hearth burned warm enough, no walls thick enough to dull the dread that settled over the city. Every soul within its borders knew the truth… the enemy was coming.
Though the Demon Empire's army still lay hundreds of miles away, its presence had already arrived. The air itself carried their stench, thick with corruption. Demonic mana seeped into the land like poison, tainting the once-golden wheat fields until they dulled, their vibrant life withering under an unseen rot.
The earth trembled.
Distant, yet unmistakable.
Each quake marked the advance of something colossal—Greater Demons, towering monstrosities that stood hundreds of meters tall, their footsteps alone enough to fracture the ground.
Their march was slow, inevitable, like a tide that could not be turned.
Behind them came the masses.
