After some time, space rippled—and Apollo and his guardian reappeared high above a boundless ocean. The waves below stretched endlessly, like a sheet of living sapphire, reflecting the sun's brilliance in endless shimmering patterns.
Far ahead, the haze of distance parted.
A vast landmass emerged on the horizon, like a slumbering beast rising from the depths.
The Western Continent.
Its coastlines were jagged, marked by colossal cliffs that rose like fortress walls from the sea. Dark-green forests crowned their peaks, and mist swirled at their feet like ancient breath.
Apollo narrowed his eyes slightly, observing the subtle aura lingering in the air. "Let's see what kind of place the western continent is."
The guardian beside him said nothing, but his gaze was sharp. He could sense it too. There was something different about this land.
