Just as Angel plummeted from the gondola, he paused abruptly and peered back at a vast, gray wasteland with puzzlement.
The heavy rain still hadn't ceased, and the far edges were shrouded in layers of mist, making it hard to see clearly.
"Angel?" Popota had by this time already leaped onto the roof of a decrepit stone house and turned back to look at Angel.
Angel frowned and quickly caught up with Popota.
At the same time, deep within the mist-shrouded downpour, in the endless wasteland, stood a lone, withered tree that had been dead for who knows how long.
A black crow perched upon the tree, its deathly still gaze piercing through its pupils toward the distant city.
"Kulangduo, do you see anything?" a voice, both ancient and crude, came drifting over.
The crow fluttered its wings a few times before its solid-looking body gradually turned into a phantom shadow. Finally, it revealed a figure in a black cloak, wearing a crow mask.
