The green sands feel incredibly cold as the brave moths that made it this far rush through the Wasteland. The wind blows hard, dust and sand whirrs around any passerbys, whirling and whooshing around. Even so, the ruins of the old battlefield inside the broken castle can be seen by now, as the wind strikes the stone. In fact, someone is sitting at the very top of the broken gate at the entrance. Someone who doesnt move an inch to help, he just sits there. Observing with an expression that barely hides a vast sea of anger.