Every day blurred into the next.
At the frozen frontier, time didn't pass, it seemed to be eroded by the abyssal too.
After slaughtering the endless tide of enemies, it was hard to process if 5 minutes, 5 hours, or 5 days passed while in a daze.
The cycle repeated without fail: battle, repairs, patrols, brief sleep, battle again. The Abyss never rested, and so the defenders couldn't either.
Kain fought in the shifts assigned to him, carving down low- and mid-grade Abyssals while keeping an eye out for anything—anything—that might hint at what Amos Sans had travelled to this far off desolate region for. Between skirmishes, he roamed the fortress, slipping between the bustle of logistics crews and the heavy-footed marches of spiritual beasts.
Yet despite all his effort, the fort yielded no secrets.
And worse—he still had not found a single ordinary person he felt was worthy to be the first awakened.
He didn't want to awaken just anyone. The first chosen always mattered.
