The sky was black, the color of rain.
Cold, painful, fearful.
Casio's mind was now like a puddle of mush, stirred up by a stick from nowhere. He could no longer see the changes in his surroundings, his tears and blood mixed together, as if a piece of glass full of bloody veins.
The sound of the wind and rain were isolated behind this pane of glass.
In the space unseen by Casio, time was retreating from all directions like tide. Everything around him was frozen in that moment, the solemn expression on Ian's old face, the sea-like mist in the high sky, and the splattering water sprouting from the cracks in the ground.
And as a backdrop, the smoky large ruins.
From a distance, it looked like a most lifelike exquisite painting. People of that era doing something.
