In a land forsaken by the gods, on a night when lightning struck infrequently, several humanoid creatures approached cautiously a mass of flesh that had grown six legs and dozens of eyes. Wrapped in animal skins or clad in simple garments of indistinct origin, they moved through the profound, boundless darkness, guided by a few lanterns, their expressions solemn and serious. Some bore dozens of flesh protrusions on their faces; others had their two eyes nearly fused together; still others had no noses, where black holes now lay. After a fierce battle, they managed to defeat the creature and divided into two groups—one to guard the perimeter, the other to gather spoils. As the man with multiple flesh growths on his face carefully dissected the monster’s body, collecting edible parts, his movements suddenly stilled. "Adal," the woman without a nose asked, puzzled, "what's wrong?" The man known as Adal slowly withdrew his right hand, revealing an object he had found on the monster. It was a stone amulet, heavily corroded. "This is..." The man with his eyes nearly pressed together seemed to grasp the reason, yet hesitated, unable to finish his words. Adal glanced around. "Sin, Rous, this was a gift I gave to my father when I was a child. On the day I came of age, he felt he could no longer control himself and chose to leave the city, journeying into the deep darkness..." Sin and Rous remained silent, both sensing Adal's emotions. In the Moon City, this was a common occurrence. Due to insufficient safe food supplies, they were forced to harvest mutated plant fruits and gather monster flesh and blood to sustain themselves. This accumulated toxins and madness, and once their physical condition declined, they either died quickly or gradually lost control. The latter, wishing to avoid disrupting the surroundings or damaging the city, often senses a change in their condition and carefully arranges everything, carrying a torch and a small supply of food, then leaves the defensive perimeter, wandering alone into the ever-present darkness, never to return. The fate that awaits them, the people of Moon City can imagine clearly—either killed by monsters or transformed into them, with no other possibility. After a silence of seven or eight seconds, the woman Xinh, who has no nose, hesitates and tells Adal: "Perhaps, this is the very monster that killed your father." "It wears a belt made of animal hide..." Adal's voice grows quieter. He lifts the bone-bladed dagger in his hand and drives it firmly downward, cutting through a section of still relatively normal flesh. The members of the hunting party moved with practiced ease, quietly gathering, until Rus, whose eyes were nearly pressed together, suddenly spoke in a low, steady tone: "Among the newborns, the number of those with deformities is increasing steadily..." The cost of accumulating toxins and madness over generations goes far beyond simply a declining average lifespan. Even those whose physical health remains normal begin to show subtle changes—like Adal, who now has numerous growths on his face. Likewise, toxins and madness can be passed down to offspring, leading to deformities. Rus and Xin of the hunting party are examples of this. Their lives are shorter, and they are more prone to sudden breakdowns and transformations. The growing number of deformed children is well understood by all present—the implication is clear: within just a few generations, the residents of the Moon City may not have fully matured or even given birth to a new generation before the city itself begins to unravel. Then, even without any external assault, the city of Tsukiyomi would swiftly perish, leaving only stone buildings and wall paintings as proof of their once-being. "I hope the high priests can find a new path..." Adal rose, holding the lantern, his voice unusually weak. Over the past two or three thousand years, the people of Tsukiyomi have not ceased seeking ways to escape their current predicament. They have sent after one exploration party after another into the depths of darkness. Some returned after suffering severe setbacks, bringing no returns; others vanished completely, lost without a trace in the endless darkness. Beyond the city, to the east, there lies a gray-white mist that blankets both sky and land. It acts as an invisible barrier, not only blocking sight but also preventing any living being from passing through. For generations, the residents of Tsukiyomi believed this mist to be a sign of hope, viewing the areas under its cover as the normal realm, and believing that beyond the mist lay a land untouched by curse. They kept trying to enter the gray-white mist, but each attempt ended in failure: they dug long corridors, hoping to pass through the earth's depths where there was no invisible barrier—yet the corresponding region deep beneath the ground was equally shrouded in gray-white mist; they gained the ability to fly, attempting to cross from above, but could never see the top of the mist, only being struck by lightning; they summoned the full strength of all the half-gods and seals, launching relentless attacks on the target, day after day, year after year, accumulating efforts over two or three millennia—yet the invisible barrier remained untouched. Hearing Captain Adal’s words, the members of the hunting squad felt both hopeless and sorrowful, as though they were slowly slipping toward the edge of the "abyss," yet unable to save themselves. The individuals who were already prone to emotional instability now felt a growing sense of pressure, each one sensing something building within them, ready to burst forth. — In the Moon City, two or three centuries ago, people with physical abnormalities could never become exceptional and join the hunting teams; they were limited to gathering tasks. As staffing demands grew tighter, however, the High Priest and other senior officials gradually relaxed these restrictions. "Come on," Adal circled around, holding his lantern, moving deeper into the darkness. They had decided not to risk extinguishing their fire, for fear that monsters would surge forth from the dark—monsters they might not be able to handle. In the profoundly quiet atmosphere, the members of the Moon City hunting team instinctively felt as though the darkness stretched on endlessly. It was as if the city's current situation—always lacking hope—was steadily fading, with the time their lanterns could burn growing shorter and shorter. When the last flicker of light finally disappeared, they would be silently and completely swallowed by the dark. As they walked on, Adal suddenly noticed a faint yellow glow in his eyes—a spark of fire, not belonging to their hunting team's lanterns! This beam of light immediately filled the eyes of every member of the hunting party, occupying their pupils. Adal, Sin, Rous, and the others could hardly contain their widened eyes, filled with strong astonishment. Throughout their lives, and in the recorded history of the Moon City since the Great Cataclysm, no light from outside the city had ever appeared! Indeed, while many monsters possessed fire or solar domain abilities, they always remained hidden in darkness before launching an attack—never revealing any light. Now, a single beam of fire emerged from the depths of darkness! Adal, Sin, Rous, and the others felt their bodies subtly tremble, pondering deeply, yet unable to arrive at a clear explanation. They quickly recalled the arrangements for this hunting expedition, confirming that no residents of the Moon City could have been nearby. If this light did not originate from the Moon City, then where did it come from? The entire hunting party slowed down, stunned, bewildered, curious, yet fearful and anxious—aware, as they had seen several fallen city-states, that any anomaly in this darkness could prove fatal. "Alert!" Adal finally regained his composure and issued the order. The hunting party immediately formed into battle formation, waiting for the pale yellow glow of light to draw near. Time seemed to freeze—each second stretching out slowly—until finally, the light grew brighter and revealed a figure. A single figure... only one... The members of the Moon City hunting party held their breath in unison. They had perhaps, maybe, even finally, been about to meet a stranger! After three or four thousand years, someone else had finally stepped onto this land. This once-isolated world was no longer theirs alone. Yet, as for who could cross the endless darkness to reach here—Adal and the others had no experience, no idea at all. As the flame grew larger and more distinct, the members of the hunting party gradually made out the figure: a tall young man with black hair and brown eyes, his expression stern—neither deformed nor showing any signs of transformation. He wore an unusual hat and strange garments, carrying a lantern crafted from a special material. Step by step, he emerged from the depths of darkness. The light from his lantern was brighter than the combined glow of the entire hunting party, swiftly banishing the surrounding shadows. In no time at all, the light reached the figures of Adal, Xin, and Rous. The figure paused, gazing at the hunting party, and spoke in a low, clear voice: "Where do you come from?" The words were in the language of the giants... his eyes were sharp, and communication was possible. Adal opened his mouth, but hesitated to respond instinctively. Instead, he asked: "Who are you?" The figure holding the glass lantern replied calmly: "Germán Sparo." After months of winding journeys and overcoming one challenge after another, Caine's spiritual intuition finally signaled to him that he was nearing his destination. He also encountered the first living beings during this pilgrimage to the land forsaken by the gods. "Where do you come from?" Adal asked, remaining cautious. Caine glanced at their faces, his tone unchanged. "I come from the City of Silver," he said, "and also from beyond the land cursed." Hearing this response, every member of the hunting party was momentarily stunned, doubting whether they had been overly hopeful, perhaps even experiencing a vision.