Dawn had finally arrived. It was still early, but Icard was already awake.
His eyes felt heavy with sleep, yet he stepped outside anyway. After a brief stretch on the front porch, he let his gaze drift lazily toward the rising sun.
The light spilled over the broken skyline, creeping across toppled walls and fractured stone, along with the shadows stretched long across the ruins.
It felt a bit too peaceful.
As he watched, the view stirred old memories. Memories from a distant past.
Memories from his last turn.
He thought about everything that had already changed. How he had ended Wester before the man could become a real threat.
By this point in his previous turn, reports of missing people was just beginning to spread, upsetting the whole vicinity.
And Eric. By now, Eric had not reached the peak of his first tier, the Crimson Blood Flare. Last time, it had taken until after the second gate for that to happen.
Truly, this turn had been rewritten.
Icard huffed softly.
