The city of Omah took its first breath after mourning.
And with the dawning of a new day, the great city of Omah regained its colors—the sky itself seemed animated—alive in a way that felt deliberate, almost aware.
Somewhere within the city, the ground trembled. There was no rhythm to it, only persistence—each shudder heavier than the one before, as though something beneath was steadily losing restraint.
Within one of the designated training grounds, a tall, imposing man relentlessly slammed puppets into the ground, each impact carving fresh cracks into both wall and floor.
