The Dirty Waters

Wails, sobs, and enraged howls accompanied by the crumbling sounds of the recently wrecked houses of hundreds, who now bore the moniker of homelessness.

A sombre atmosphere enveloped the capital Deron of the Dasiris Empire, with most of its commoners suffering from the night's dread, while wailing for their loved ones, whom they lost at that despairing matter of minutes no human could defend against.

Marching steps and sounds of mana swirling furiously trickled the ears of the despairing.

Knights marching out of the whitish purple portals, from the Royal Palace, quickly breezed through the capital within a matter of hours, collecting reports from the stationed guards, guilds, and adventurers about the phenomenon that brought forth a calamity, on yesterday's night they spent sleepless.