In the desolate and mysterious lands of the Abyssal Borders,

Here, the sky was perpetually shrouded by heavy clouds, an unyielding veil that pressed down upon the earth like an eternal curtain. Low rumbles of thunder occasionally reverberated through the air, akin to ancient behemoths roaring in the distance.

Sunlight struggled to penetrate these dense clouds, leaving the land perpetually dim, devoid of even a hint of warm light. The air carried a damp and chilling essence, sending involuntary shivers down one's spine.

The terrain, barren and parched, seemed untouched by rain for an age. Cracks spiderwebbed across the ground, resembling a vast shell cracked open, revealing desolation. For those attuned to the spiritual energies of the earth, they would find the aura here unusually thin, almost imperceptible in its subtle fluctuations. Everything here seemed to silently convey despair and barrenness.

At the heart of this wasteland, an elderly man sat quietly upon a weathered stone seat. Dim candles flickered around him, their faint flames dancing in the wind. The old man's figure appeared particularly solitary amidst the elongated shadows cast by the stone seat.

Surrounding him, dozens of figures clad in black robes stood silently, their entire bodies wrapped except for the faint glint of eyes fixed upon the elder.

Eyes closed, the old man's crimson staff lightly traced the surface of the stone table. His brow furrowed slightly, lips trembling as if engaged in conversation with some mysterious force.

Moments later, his eyes snapped open, gleaming incongruously against the dim surroundings. The staff moved with increased vigor in his grasp.

"Creak, creak..." The sound echoed through the surroundings.

Wind had begun to pick up imperceptibly from all around, it slowly increased in intensity.The sliding sound echoed through the wind, lingering persistently, refusing to disperse. The wind grew stronger, swirling around from all directions.

"The path to the future... Where is it?" The weathered voice carried on the winds, growing increasingly frantic with profound sadness and a desperate struggle, echoing from the mouth of the elder in his grey robes.

The black-robed figures around him stared intently, bodies trembling slightly.

The wind intensified, seeming to respond to the elder's words, carrying his voice away, then tearing it apart and drowning it within itself as it blew off into the distance.

"If there is a future, where does it lie? If all hope is lost, why do you show it to me... My kin were not wrong, never..." The elder's voice grew hoarse, as if straining to shout against a force from deep within, roaring across the ruins.

The wind grew fiercer, whipping up swirls of dust.

The elder raised his staff with his left hand, pointing it towards the sky. Instantly, the swirling winds around them converged into a single moment, transforming into a dragon of howling wind that surged towards the heavens.

But in that instant as the wind dragon rushed towards the black clouds, vapors in the sky suddenly condensed into black ice spears, where the ice, dark and swirling with storm clouds, shot towards the wind dragon. With a speed carrying an irresistible will, it shattered the wind dragon's form in an instant.

The elder roared towards the sky, raising his staff. Then, he bit his tongue, spraying blood onto the staff. It immediately glowed red. Simultaneously, dozens of black-robed figures below the stone seat pulled down their robes, biting their tongues to spit blood. Their blood swiftly merged together, along with that of the elder, flying straight towards the sky. Upon merging with the shattered wind dragon, they visibly grew at a speed observable to the naked eye, forming a new dragon body, transforming into a blood dragon.

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The bright crimson stood out vividly beneath the dark clouds. After a few rolls, the blood dragon roared, howling as it once again surged towards the sky.

The black ice spears refused to yield, plummeting swiftly downward. Yet this time, upon impact, they met a different fate. Before the blood dragon, a crimson barrier materialized, resisting the onslaught of ice spears and continuously pressing forward. Cracks began to appear on the columns of ice spears, growing larger and eventually rupturing into pieces with a resounding crash.

The blood dragon charged towards the swathes of black clouds. However, in that instant, the dragon abruptly paused...

In that momentary pause, the blood dragon seemed to see beyond the barrier, glimpsing a vision beyond.

In the vision stood a black dragon covered in bone spurs, enormous in size, its wings capable of blotting out the sun. Deep black scales shimmered with an icy gleam under faint light, as if a shadow crawling forth from the depths of hell.

The black dragon raised its head to the sky, letting out a resounding roar that seemed to tear the heavens apart, causing the clouds to roll and tumble in its wake.

With a disdainful snort, the black dragon opened its massive jaws. Its sharp teeth glinted in the darkness. Wisps of black smoke drifted from its nostrils, accompanied by a deep rumble. Then, a searing pillar of fire erupted from deep within its throat, the flames rushing towards the sky like a furious tornado of dragons, distorting the air with intense heat.

In just a moment, it incinerated the clouds at the horizon. Satisfied, the black dragon licked its lips, eyes gleaming with satisfaction, as if no force between heaven and earth could constrain its existence.

Just then, a startling thunderclap rang out across the sky, akin to the pounding of war drums. Thunder rolled in from the horizon, deafening in an instant. The black dragon suddenly alert, stared with wide eyes towards the source of the thunder, its body tensed as if facing a great foe. It bellowed once more at the origin of the thunder, its voice filled with anger and defiance.

Yet before the black dragon could react, a lightning bolt appeared like a sword, slashing through the firmament, charging straight towards the black dragon. The dazzling blue light of the lightning stabbed at the black dragon's eyes, as if the fury of a celestial being had descended. With a deafening roar, the lightning struck the black dragon, erupting instantly into a blinding glare. In the midst of its piercing screams, the immense body of the dragon shattered and disintegrated, scales scattered, bone spurs broken, as if shaking the entire world.

The black dragon's roar gradually faded, dissipating into the air, leaving behind only a calm sky. The thunder faded into the distance, leaving only scorched marks and smoke lingering in the air, as if the earth-shattering events had been but a fleeting nightmare. Peace returned to this slice of the world, yet the destruction of that moment remained deeply imprinted upon every inch of the air...

Boom!

Amidst the agonizing cry of the blood dragon, its body collapsed, transforming into flakes of blood snow that drifted down from the sky. Yet at that moment, from the shattered mouth of the blood dragon came a voice entirely different from its agonized cry!

"Witch..."

"Witch..."

"Witch..."

"If you have shown me this foresight, there must be hope, but where is that hope?" The old man bellowed to the sky, biting his tongue and spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"The world I see, you cannot see... cannot see... hope..." The old man murmured bitterly, his right hand gripping the staff, sliding once more across the stone dais with a creaking sound.

The candlelight seemed to fade, his figure appearing desolate. In the flickering light, a sense of lonely sorrow and decline emanated from him.

"Hope... is not here, but in the future..." The old man muttered.

"The future of the Witchkin... is not here..." He said softly, his voice hoarse yet resolute.

"That is our fate..." The old man continued, "The fate of the Witchkin..." Each word seemed to squeeze out from the depths of his soul.

His voice grew fainter, as if the flame of life was slowly extinguishing. His lips trembled slightly, struggling to utter the last few words. His voice grew lighter and lighter until it disappeared completely. His breath became intermittent, and the last breath escaped from his lips, taking away all his strength.

The old man's head slowly drooped, like a withered flower losing its final support. His hand, tightly gripping the staff, gradually loosened, and the staff made a soft sound as it fell to the ground, bidding farewell to his lifetime. Suddenly, his body slumped as if pushed down by an invisible force, heavily falling to the ground.

His body lay quietly on the ground, his expression peaceful, as if he had finally found tranquility. The staff lay askew beside him, ancient runes engraved on it faintly shimmering in the dim light, as if telling a tale of its own...