"The wasteland's creatures have begun their migration, but at their pace, reaching the Western Continent will be nearly impossible. Many will likely perish along the way."
Inside the study, Lin Tuo gazed down at the sand table continent.
From cities and forests, countless black dots surged outward, gathering into dense streams, like dark rivers—or like arrows—all moving straight toward the Western Continent.
"Yes, I must help them with the transfer."
After some thought, Lin Tuo turned, drew a fresh sheet of printer paper from the desk, cut it carefully into a strip with a knife, then gently placed it into the sand table.
The Wasteland.
Across the central plains, an immense migration stretched across the icy tundra, humans and beasts mixed together. Flocks of birds soared overhead.
Compared to the beasts and evolvers, the refugees struggled most.
They lacked warm clothing, lacked food, many were weak or maimed.
At first, they forced themselves forward, but soon they faltered. Some collapsed entirely, unable to go on.
"We're too far from the Western Continent. We'll never make it," one evolver said anxiously, watching the refugees fall behind.
"Ah! Look!" someone suddenly cried out.
Everyone raised their heads—
The clouds churned. Then, an enormous, strange landmass descended from the sky, settling steadily on the snowy plain before the migration, fitting seamlessly into the wasteland.
"Is it the gods?"
"Could this be… the New Land?"
Their thoughts connected instantly with the divine "edict" that had spread across the wasteland not long ago. It could only be the work of a god.
The beasts didn't think at all. Still running, they surged up onto the vast, pale, coarse "land" made of paper.
Seeing this, the humans followed, scrambling eagerly onto the warm, rough white expanse.
Outside the sand table.
Lin Tuo waited until the first group had climbed onto the strip of paper, then carefully lifted it with steady hands, slowly moving it toward the mountains of the Western Continent.
Though it carried multitudes, the weight was still manageable.
As the land rose, countless beings fell, trembling in terror, crying out instinctively.
Those near the paper's edge clung desperately to its ridges, wide-eyed, watching the shrinking wasteland below.
Then they realized the "land" no longer rose, but slid westward at great speed. Below, rivers and mountains blurred into streaks, vanishing behind them.
"Look! That's Old Kyoto!"
"That's Mount Daman!"
"Darkless City!"
From this impossible vantage, they saw their world—the ruined cities, the landmarks, the broken wasteland.
"So this… is the world we live in."
For most, especially the refugees, this was the first glimpse beyond their homes. They had only heard scraps from "wasteland hunters."
They knew their land was harsh.They knew their world was broken.They knew it was forsaken by the gods.
But only now, soaring above on this paper continent, did they truly understand the shape of their world.
"Many years ago, it wasn't like this.
Back then, the seasons followed one another—not endless winters like now. Back then, those ruins were living, bustling cities.
Citizens worked in factories, in companies, in government offices. Children studied in schools. The sick went to hospitals for treatment…
Young people chased fashion. Boys and girls in love wore different clothes every day…"
At the edge of the paper stood an old man. His hair was thin and gray, though he was not yet fifty. The wasteland had aged him beyond recognition.
He stared at the shrinking world, tears welling in his clouded eyes.
"Back then, I was an imperial pilot. A fine profession, bright prospects, popular with the girls. Then came the cataclysm… and everything was gone."
Beside him, a starving child glanced from earth to sky, baffled. Born in the wasteland, he couldn't imagine the "old world." Yet his young blood surged, filling him with a need to shout.
"Waaah… ahhh…"
His cry spread, until many refugees were shouting too, some with laughter, some with tears.
And beneath their cries, the paper land rose into snowy peaks—the western mountains.
They had arrived.
The "land" descended slowly, into a massive valley at the continent's edge.
Terrified humans and beasts clung together, staring at the looming mountains and at the shining Glass Chalice, which glowed even under heavy clouds.
"Look!"
"My god, what is that?"
"Scatter! Run!"
On the ground, evolvers from the Burning Flame Company, the Grey Mountain Group, and the Doomsday Floaters had just recovered from shock when they saw the impossible sight—
A descending landmass, covered with countless humans and beasts.
The scene was so overwhelming that even hardened fighters threw themselves to the ground, rolling aside in panic.
But soon, they realized their fear was needless.
The invisible hand carrying the continent was gentle, cautious, almost warm—setting it softly within the valley.
Outside the sand table, in the study.
Lin Tuo exhaled deeply as he settled the first group into the valley. He had held his breath, afraid even a tremor might throw them into chaos.
"What were they shouting about?" he wondered aloud, shaking his head to clear the thought.
No time to dwell. He reached for another strip of paper, eyes fixed on the next migration column.
"You'll be the second wave… tch, looks like I'll be busy for a while."
(End of Chapter)