Yuuto opened his eyes.
A sharp gust bit at his face, and for a moment, all he could see was white. Snow. Endless, howling snow — stretching across a desolate landscape of broken stone and crumbling walls. The remains of a ruined fortress surrounded him, ancient and half-buried beneath frost and silence.
He rose slowly, breath misting in the icy air.
"…A wasteland," he muttered, brushing a patch of snow off his shoulder. His hair fluttered with the wind. He glanced around, silver eyes narrowing. "Why did you bring me here, Ren? I hope you have a very good explanation for yourself."
Behind him, footsteps crunched.
Yuuto turned slowly.
Sure enough — a figure stood a few dozen paces away.
Ren.
But he wasn't wearing the formal clothing he'd worn earlier at the Grand Meeting. No. This Ren was clad in red and black armor, the plates sharp-edged and strangely battle-worn, flickers of black mana coursing faintly along the seams. A heavy cape billowed behind him.
His gaze was ice.
