The sun sank westward into the undulating mountain ridge.
The orange-red afterglow dyed the forest canopies into what seemed like a dried bloodstain across the landscape.
The mountain wind swept dry leaves into the air, and the temperature rapidly decreased at a speed perceptible to the body.
A slender figure appeared at the edge of the cliff, two kilometers away from the Golden City Resort.
The person wore a gray high-collar coat, a wide-brimmed sun hat on his head, and large sunglasses covered his face completely.
On the ground a few meters behind him stood a large archway pieced together from pale leg bones and skulls.
Black smoke seeped through the frame seams, leaving surrounding grasses and trees instantly withered upon contact.
A dozen armed gunmen dressed in black scattered among the forest, holding assault rifles, vigilantly surveying their surroundings.
Night Owl raised his hand, pushed the edge of his sunglasses, looking down at the distant Golden City Resort.
