Somewhere in the West of the Aquari Continent, the cold wind whistles as it breeze through the bloody plains. Thousands of dead monsters and players lay everywhere as their blood made the soil muddy.
Sat on top of a corpse of a giant orc, that lay the highest, was a man seemingly in his late 20s. His arms rested on top of his knees while his sword rested on his shoulder to the orc's belly; where he was seated. His eyes surveyed their surroundings and gasped as if he was smoking a cigarette. Paired with his a thick and sinister mustache, he resembled a leader of a winning military force of war during the early 1900s.
"And this was supposed to be a game?" He asked himself as he took another breath.
Before he could speak another word, a good looking man walked through the mud of blood without complaint and asked, "Guild Leader Wan! The scouts reported to me that these were the last batch of monsters from the Eastern Forest!"
