886. Flee in all directions.

Above the Wasteland, Torrential Rain continued unabated.

The fierce storms, which many had never seen in their lifetime, surged toward Utopia. The sky had already darkened, as unprecedented clouds gathered, obscuring the dazzling sunlight.

Green lightning zigzagged through the dark clouds, and lightning bolts containing immense energy struck the rain-soaked sand, spreading electricity that made the desert emit a faint glow.

The green rainwater carried a disturbing odor, and the damp wind blew toward the dry City-state—it was the wind of disease, the wind of death, the wind of despair.

The first to realize something was amiss were the idle traveling merchants outside the city.

Initially, they had rejoiced at the impending rain, as thrilled as parched vegetation welcoming a long-awaited downpour. But when the wind touched their faces and gritty air filled their nostrils, these traveling merchants sensed danger.