Three years.
The overcast sky had persisted for three years.
At night, it was nearly pitch black, and during the day it was slightly better, but only a faint glimr of sunlight could pierce the ground, resembling the prelude to a storm when looking up.
At the beginning of those three years, most people felt there was no issue. Compared to the sky above, they were more concerned with their own lives, how to earn a living.
But gradually, things changed—due to the prolonged lack of sunlight, the crops in the fields began to yellow and wither, trees lost their greenness, forests turned into woods, woods into grasslands, and grasslands into wasteland...
The temperature continued to drop, and everything felt like winter had arrived early.
But this winter was too terrifying, possibly the most terrifying and longest winter many had ever experienced—grains were nearly failing, livestock died in herds, prices soared, and society was in turmoil.
A Demon nad "famine" had appeared out of nowhere, ravaging the entire world.
Within just a few months, nothing else in the world mattered, and everyone was focused on one question—where and how to find food, and how to survive.
Under so sort of guidance, so people left their gatherings and headed westward, while others went east, south, or north.
Many once-bustling tropolises beca deserted, even small kingdoms and duchies vanished quietly from maps.
By the ti three years had passed, the world was no longer what it used to be.
Sotis change in the world is slow, but other tis it happens unimaginably fast—especially when guided by soone.
...
Three years later.
On August 25th of what people called the Black Era or New Era, year three.
Under the gloomy daylight sky, a father and son—42-year-old Philip and 8-year-old Little Jimmy—were heading west across a desolate wasteland.
After walking for a while, the two were tired and stopped to rest beside a rock.
Philip carefully took off a half-deflated, torn burlap sack from his shoulder, untied the rope, and pulled out a sowhat dry mushroom to give to Little Jimmy to eat. He also ate one and then tightly bound the bag again and slung it over his shoulder.
As they chewed the mushroom, a bitter taste filled their mouths, but their faces were void of any expression, just staring blankly at the edge of the land, their gaze turning hollow.
After a few seconds, Little Jimmy’s gaze was the first to clear as he turned to Philip and asked, "Dad, how much longer until we reach the place we’re going to?"
How much longer... Philip couldn’t help but want to shake his head and then honestly tell his son that he didn’t know... Concerning Shalin, about the legends of Shalin, he had only heard from others... In reality, he wasn’t even sure if Shalin existed at all.
They talk about endless supplies of food, about never-before-seen miraculous creations, and about a life as beautiful as Heaven... Is this possible?
This is the New Era, after all.
The New Era, isn’t it an era filled with darkness and disaster?
He also heard that Shalin was the culprit behind all this. How could sothing caused by the culprit be so wonderful?
Philip felt his thoughts were getting jumbled, thinking for a long ti until Little Jimmy tugged at his sleeve, bringing him back to reality. He glanced at the horizon and then confidently smiled and said, "Three days, we just need to walk for another three days to reach our destination. Don’t worry, Jimmy, the mushrooms in our bag will last until then."
After a pause, Philip added, "If not, we can always return to Bright Town and stretch out the supplies; the mushrooms will be enough."
"That’s good," Little Jimmy smiled, "but we’d better not go back to Bright Town. It’s not bright at all there."
"Dad feels the sa," Philip laughed. "Alright, we’ve rested enough. We should set off now. How about we take a break again after crossing that little mound ahead?"
As Philip spoke, he pointed to a slight rise in the ground nearby, where a tree once grew but had long beco lifeless, its branches frozen still as if it were a sculpture.
Little Jimmy nodded after looking at it, "Okay."
"Then let’s go." Philip pulled Little Jimmy along as they started walking, but after just a few steps, he suddenly stopped, his eyes widening.
He saw a figure erge from behind the dead tree on the distant mound. It seed that the figure had been resting against the tree and was now stretching their body before looking around and walking straight towards them.
Philip instantly tensed, shielding Little Jimmy behind him, his eyes fixed intently on the approaching figure, contemplating what to do.
Should he go to et them? He dared not. Who knew what the person’s intentions were? What if they were bandits? This was too common in the New Era’s wastelands; even in Bright Town, there were plenty of such cases.
So escape? That wouldn’t work either. He couldn’t run fast while dragging Little Jimmy along, and after being hungry for so long, their bodies were weak and wouldn’t get far. If the stranger ant harm, running might provoke them, making things worse.
What should he do then?
Philip’s mind raced, but he couldn’t co up with a viable solution.
anwhile, the stranger had already co close.
He could see that the stranger wore a peculiar outfit that roughly resembled a robe but was much more tightly fitted, fastened securely at the wrists and ankles. The surface of the clothing had a tallic sheen but was much lighter than tal.
Moreover, the stranger wore a bird-beak-like mask, and a half-ter-long tal tube was strapped to their back.
The stranger stopped a few ters away, seemingly without ill intent, and removed the mask to reveal a youthful face, brown hair, and amber eyes.
The stranger glanced at Philip and Little Jimmy, smiled, and asked, "Are you two coming from the west?"
"Yes, sir," Philip answered cautiously, automatically lowering his stance because he noticed the redness in the stranger’s face—a sign of regularly being well-fed, unlike him and his son, who were gaunt and sallow. In the New Era, having enough to eat for an extended period symbolized strength or high status in so sense.
"So, are you from Dry Valley City or Grey Forest City?" the stranger inquired, looking curious. Although it made Philip slightly irritable, it also relaxed him sowhat—as long as the stranger wasn’t imdiately demanding their mushrooms, it was fine.
"Sir, we’re from Bright Town, not far from Grey Forest City. As for the Dry Valley City you ntioned, I... have never heard of it."
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