The dark cyan stone pillars were covered in ancient, strange runes. They flickered with an unsteady light, emitting a powerful sealing force.
A fierce wind suddenly erupted from the pillars, sending sand and stones flying. The remaining people on the street were blown about, stumbling and falling.
And atop those three stone pillars stood three figures.
The three were not old, around twenty years of age, yet their auras were steady and their gazes sharp.
Though their robes were tattered and stained with dust and dried blood, nothing could hide their extraordinary bearing.
The woman to the east wore a fiery red long dress, her posture upright. She carried a greatsword on her back as large as a door panel, exuding a heroic air.
The man to the west had somewhat messy hair, but his face held a defiant smile and his eyes were disdainful. A long, black, dragon-coiled staff rested casually on his shoulder.
