The three Abyssal Sentinels didn't flinch as the sky split open. They didn't even look up as the massive, gold-scaled form of Fafnir and the others descended like falling mountains.
"The Golden Lineage," the central Sentinel whispered, its featureless bone mask tilting. "Ingi... you still cling to the light of a sun that has already set."
Ingi hit the Spire's peak with a thunderous impact, but he didn't charge. He skidded to a halt, his massive chest heaving, his amber eyes wide with a horror that surpassed anything he had felt in a thousand years. He looked at the three figures in their grey, ragged Void-Cloths, and his "Unbridled" gold mana flickered with a sudden, agonizing instability.
"No..." Ingi whispered, his voice cracking. "It can't be. You were lost in the Great Collapse. We sang the dirge for you."
"Father?" Fafnir landed beside him, his sword drawn. "Who are they? They're erasing our Laws just by standing there."
