The wind whimpered as it moved through the desolate land of the Moon Worship Region, transforming into a tragic melody that seemed to be telling of the distant past.
Sandstorm rose and permeated the world, merging with the dim sky, making it difficult to distinguish between the two. Only faintly, one could see a long convoy, moving forward in this haze.
The convoy was formed by huge metal cages. Inside, countless members of the Mirror Image Race and the Heavenly Mask Race were enveloped in despair.
In front sat two people. Their ages were separated by a generation.
The old man wore a mask, and so did the youth.
The expression on the mask was quite exaggerated, radiating dedication and devoutness, as if it were constantly in a state of worship.