Ascending a wide foothill of dark stone and dead grass, the Imperial Armed Forces continued further into territory said to be ruled by Demons.
The surroundings, sparsely decorated with lifeless, black trees, was almost perfectly barren, and despite having arrived around the peak of noon, where the sun should ordinarily be reaching its zenith in the sky, it was unseen, concealed behind a sea of ashen clouds and bleak, chilling winds.
Compared to the idyllic climate over in the mainland of the empire, this place was desolate, nothing more than dreary and dismal.
It was more than just 'soulless'―it portended something unfathomably sinister.
In such a frankly gloomy environment, those present couldn't help but begin to feel the same, and before anyone realised it, the marching force had drowned in silence.
