The red sun glowed over the earth, painting not only the sky red but also the land and everything it touched.
Perched atop a lonesome mountain was Jayhan, his clothes soaked with dried blood, his face carrying the aura of a warrior who had been fighting for thousands of years.
The head of a monster rested beside him, its jagged mouth open, allowing its tongue to loll out, and its empty eye sockets leaving a path for darkness to seep in. Its skin was grey; though dead, one could still tell it was a powerful warrior in life.
Strong as it may have been, death hides from no one, and it was just another unlucky one to fall under its radar.
Jayhan viewed down at the dry terrain. There, humans roamed like ants, but these ants were slaves.
They were bound with chains, forced to push giant statues of the goddess Amastarasu.
Most had been pushing the rocks for hundreds of years, some even longer, while others had just begun, scared and confused.
