The rivers became tainted, fruits on the trees sprouted black spots, and even the stored grains were contaminated.
The shadows continued to spread, firm and slow.
Save for the moonlight in the sky, every other source of light was completely devoured, obscured. The world seemed to have regressed to primordial times; people hid in fear at night, not daring to venture out.
War had to be paused. No one could make out where the enemy was, nor where their comrades stood. Even the vision of the Transcendents was obstructed by this curtain of shadow; a lit flame would flicker and die out in an instant as if caught in a strong wind.
And within the coffin, Lancelot I suddenly reached out and grabbed the dagger in his chest.
Then, he pulled out the dagger instantly!
In that moment, his visage, already aged, visibly rejuvenated at a speed the naked eye could follow, returning to how he looked in his thirties.
