The long-awaited three days had passed.
Tension had mounted until time itself seemed to hold its breath.
Now, Lucien stood before the Black Mass which looks like a tide of darkness that stretched beyond sight. Placing his hand upon his chest, he sent his voice into the depths of his divine energy core.
"I am about to enter."
Within the inner world, an army beyond reckoning stood assembled. Ranks of soldiers stretched to the horizon of the mini Earth.
The proud banners of Lootwell.
The knightly orders of the Kingdom.
The priests and paladins of the Holy Nation.
The beastmen of the Beast Tribes.
And even the remnants of the Federation.
For the first time in history, the four great powers of the continent had set aside their rivalries and stood united.
Yet unity was fragile without structure. To prevent chaos, Lucien imposed a single condition.
All armies would follow Lukas as Supreme Commander while the priesthood would heed Clara.
