Crimson and black colors spread across the skies of the Outer Continent within the Inner World, appearing as though they were colliding with one another in an attempt to overwhelm each other.
Those colors were not merely fleeting hues or reflections produced by a natural phenomenon, but manifestations of living entities writhing through the depths of the aether like colossal serpents. Each color carried a murderous will and an overwhelming desire to devour and dominate. The crimson flowed like rivers of fresh blood, while the black seeped forth like darkness given form, swallowing light, warmth, and hope all at once, leaving behind an eerie emptiness.
Despite the continent's immense size, not a single corner escaped the grip of that conflict. It was not only the sky that suffered; the earth itself continued to quake, and in regions close to the center of the clash, countless seas and rivers were boiled away, transformed into deadly poisonous vapor.
All of these terrifying phenomena plunged every living race into overwhelming panic from humans, to the Gray Dwarves, to the Hand Lizards, and even the beasts that roamed the wilderness. The belief spread rapidly that this was the end of the world, that the gates of hell had opened to swallow all life. Some collapsed to the ground, weeping and screaming in utter terror, while others fell to their knees in prayer, raising their hands toward the heavens and desperately begging for salvation from this catastrophe.
This dreadful state continued for six uninterrupted years. Its intensity never weakened for even a single moment; instead, it grew fiercer with each passing day, as though the entire world had become a battlefield between two titans. Night turned into a raging day, while in other regions day became a pitch-black night. The seasons lost all meaning, the cycle of life itself came to a halt, and it was as though time had frozen in anticipation of the outcome of this conflict.
Elsewhere on the Outer Continent, near the Forbidden Region, the two beings responsible for these horrifying phenomena continued their collision, driven by their overwhelming power. One of them was a young woman with cold, deadly features, showing almost no trace of human emotion. Her sky-blue hair flowed over her shoulders like a cascading waterfall, her lethal blue eyes pierced the souls of those who gazed upon them, and in her hand rested a razor-sharp katana.
Thousands of years had passed since Sophia first entered this world. Throughout those countless ages, she had carved a legendary path of bloodshed, tempering her extraordinary talent through thousands of battles in preparation for her current and final confrontation against the strongest being on the Outer Continent: the Lone Death Wolf, a mythical creature that combined the traits of both wolf and man. It possessed a gigantic, powerfully built body, thick gray fur covering every inch of its form, and two yellow eyes that glowed in the darkness like a pair of ominous flames. In each hand it wielded a small sickle that shimmered with black radiance, each releasing waves of deadly black aura capable of withering souls themselves.
This wolf was no ordinary creature. It was the very embodiment of the concept of death, a monster that had devoured countless powerful beings over hundreds of thousands of years.
Thus, the moment the two met, both instinctively understood that this battle between them was inevitable. Sophia had already decided that this would be the battle in which she would take that final step. By slaying this legendary being, she would prove herself worthy of becoming a King.
The opposite was equally true. The Death Wolf also intended to seize this opportunity. To it, Sophia was a precious gift bestowed by fate, for a soul that had illuminated the Path of Slaughter with so much bloodshed was destined to become its greatest prize. By devouring her, it too would prove itself worthy of becoming a King and crown its path with an eternal death that would never fade.
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