The scene shifted dramatically, moving far from the bustling marketplace of the Fourth Ring to the distant, perilous landscape where molten rock poured relentlessly, and volcanic vents spewed columns of toxic fumes.
Beneath a blood-red sky, a solitary figure ascended the harsh slopes of an enormous volcanic mountain.
The landscape was barren, twisted rock formations standing like dark sentinels amid bubbling pools of lava. Sulfurous vapors rose upward in thick plumes, choking the air and dimming visibility.
Dawn—a middle-aged man bearing a solemn, resolute gaze—climbed steadily toward the volcano's peak, each step leaving a deep imprint on the volcanic ash beneath his sturdy leather boots.
He wore a long, weathered cloak that fluttered behind him in the scalding wind. In his right hand, he firmly grasped an ancient-looking katana, its polished blade shimmering faintly with mysterious runes, emanating a subtle, yet overwhelming aura.
