PREVIEW

... .

It was no longer a snowy, pitch-black night, and the blades on the snowfield no longer resembled tombstones.

It was no longer a fiery red wasteland, a world like a steel mill.

There was no crescent moon, no dark gears, no melancholic sunset-colored horizon...

What lay before Lancelot and the others was a beautiful snowfield draped in silver, with a golden morning sun hanging high in the sky.

"Ah..."

A refreshing, yet not cold, wind blew across th ...

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