Gazing down at the inner world from a height would reveal a peculiar scene that was both magnificent and icy.

This painting, however, had been marred with greyish black scars. Such stains would appear from time to time and expand forward, much like an inexperienced painter—or perhaps even a child—scribbling randomly.

If one were to expand this scene, he would discover that those leaking colors were actually battlefields. The battlefields were of varying sizes and intensities, leaving Attawa corpses or beast carcasses in their wake.

In one of these greyish marks, a giant waved his weapon in vain as he let out a final roar and collapsed in a flurry of mud and gravel. Before him, the Masefield Clan Lord Progia stood wiping the blood on his hand with a handkerchief.

He then tossed the handkerchief away, which his subordinates naturally picked up and put away.

The collapsed giant’s head happened to land exactly in front of Progia’s toes, yet the splashing mud didn’t touch the clan lord at all.

Progia gazed coldly into the giant’s glaring eyes....