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A very long time ago—so long ago that the very idea of time lost its meaning—there existed a place where even the memory of sunlight faded. It was a land of endless white, a domain ruled by bitter cold, where blizzards raged so fiercely that seeing a single step ahead was nearly impossible. At the edge of that storm-lashed border stood a solitary barbarian.
That barbarian was Ketal.
He gazed silently into the swirling expanse of snow, his breath crystallizing in the frozen air. Far, far off in the distance, he could just make out the vague shimmer of green—some trick of the light, a fleeting glimpse of living grass or leaves. Perhaps it was only a mirage conjured by his desperate hopes. However, for Ketal, that faraway patch of green was nothing less than a vision of paradise, a myth made real. He stared at it, spellbound, as if in a trance.
How long he stood there, he could not say, but eventually, he hefted his axe—a weapon battered and worn by untold struggles—and swung it with all his might.
CRACK!
The axe struck the empty air, and reality itself seemed to splinter. For an instant, a jagged line ran through the world, as if the boundary between this realm and the next had truly fractured. However, as quickly as it appeared, the fissure sealed itself up, vanishing without a trace. It was as if the world had never allowed it to exist at all—a silent declaration...
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