When I woke again, night was near. The setting sun spilled wine-red afterglow across the horizon, painting the distant grassy plains in hazy twilight gold.

Few trees dotted the landscape. The caravan had camped on open wilderness outside town, a cluster of gray tents rising one after another. The guards weren’t resting—they fed horses, lit fires, and cooked meals.

I sat before Eunice’s carriage—the one where Rosalynd slept—and stretched. Eunice stood nearby on the ground, her gaze calm as she observed the bustling guards.

Violet still slept soundly in the central carriage. When I woke, her lips curled in a blissful smile.

*Must be having sweet dreams.*

Just as I stepped out of the carriage, Eunice noticed my movement and called me over. She didn’t turn her head, watching the lively camp setup while asking, "You didn’t do anything, Krein?"

"Huh?" I was puzzled.

Her eyes flicked to me. "To my body. Or to Miss Violet."

*She’s still worried.* I shook my head quickly. "Nothing happened. I just slept."

"Really?" A restrained light flashed in Eunice’s dark eyes—gone as swiftly as it appeared. Those pupils, briefly luminous and almost mesmerizing, sank back into eternal stillness.

"Yes. Please believe me."

"If that’s true," Eunice narrowed her eyes, "why were your boots taken off?"

*Sweat… She noticed?* Guess I’m bad at wearing these short boots. No idea how to fasten them properly in this world. After fumbling for ages, I’d barely managed to strap on these dark red ones.

Meeting Eunice’s emotionless stare, I confessed honestly: "Violet said sleeping in shoes is uncomfortable. She took them off for me."

Eunice fell silent for seconds. "Do you know where Miss Violet comes from?"

"Where?" I asked curiously. "Do you?"

"Today, I overheard guards talking. One said, *‘It’s good to walk on land again.’*"

"What?"

"Their conversation revealed this caravan sailed across the sea to reach Avaria Continent," Eunice stated flatly.

A slight chill ran through me. *These people aren’t from Avaria?*

Avaria Continent—named after the Avaria Empire that ruled it. The reason was simple: this land held only one nation.

South of Avaria, beyond the endless cerulean sea, lay new continents. Territories controlled by the Holy Church.

The Nine Theocratic Kingdoms—land realms and island nations united under divine rule.

Elektra. Ghalengris. Seruka. Brinithien…

Their lands covered over seventy percent of the world’s surface.

For a millennium, the Holy Church’s power had grown. All nations contemporary to Avaria had fallen, becoming earthly divine realms—except this vast, stubborn empire. Only nine nations now survived under the Church’s shadow.

I’d never forgotten the shock when Eunice first described this world.

*Just a backward religion? How could its influence swell so monstrously?* How could royal families bow so utterly? Why no resistance?

Then I understood: it wasn’t that they wouldn’t. They *dared* not. After a thousand years under the Church’s grip, submission had become instinct.

The Holy Church’s strength terrified me—far beyond what I’d imagined.

Avaria’s survival wasn’t just thanks to loyal, mighty Knights. Luck played its part too. Geography shielded the empire, granting a millennium of peace.

Without that advantage, war would have erupted centuries ago. Its outcome might have reshaped the world.

Avaria’s borders stretched west to the Severing Forest, east to the Cerulean Sea—vast and populous. Yet the continent’s edges ran farther still.

Beyond the Severing Forest lay the Cursed Lands. Black earth. Perpetually overcast skies. Barren plains stretching to the horizon, devoid of color or life. No blade of green grass survived even after weeks of travel.

Only desolation. Silence. Wind sighing like a lonely dirge.

Nine hundred years ago, under the Fourth Emperor, Avaria sent explorers and Knights to unravel the Black Plains’ mystery.

Explorer Schumai wrote in his memoirs: their journey held no danger—only an eerie, unsettling calm. One Knight grew so weary of his armor he discarded blessed plate worth thousands of gold coins into the wasteland.

"*No peril followed us,*" Schumai recorded. "*Only solitude.*"

The plains were too immense.

After endless days of walking—reduced to mere motion—the expedition finally glimpsed something beyond barren earth.

The sight struck them dumb. Seasoned explorers and battle-hardened Knights stood frozen, speechless with awe.

A colossal abyss split the horizon. From leftmost to rightmost vision, the chasm devoured the landscape—a rift cleaving the continent itself.

Peering closer, mist like a shroud of night filled the depths.

The abyss *was* the mist. The mist *was* the abyss.

A Knight tossed a blessed longsword into the chasm. The blade dissolved soundlessly in the black fog—erased from existence.

Schumai’s team lingered until supplies dwindled, then retreated to Avaria.

A year later, he returned with imperial Knights. After two years of surveying, they measured the Misty Abyss’s true scale:

—One-tenth the size of the entire Avaria Empire.