Situ stood at the edge of the ruined world, his feet sinking slightly into the black-red soil.
A cold wind blew across the shattered plains.
Broken city walls stretched endlessly in the distance, leaning like the ribs of some dead giant beast. Above, the blood-red sky churned with dark clouds, and crimson lightning flashed silently across the horizon.
But Situ did not pay attention to any of that.
His eyes were locked on the young man in white.
The face.
That face was his own.
Same sharp brows. Same jawline. Same cold gaze.
It was like staring into a mirror—except the reflection was calmer, older, and carried an indescribable ancient aura.
The two other figures stood slightly behind him.
One was a giant armored man carrying a stone hammer taller than himself. His body was covered in cracks, as though he had been pieced together from ancient rock.
