Under the heavy black sky, silver flakes of snow drift down, covering the light brown wooden platform with a white cotton blanket.

A dense grey fog envelops everything, blurring the sight of those around.

The light from tungsten lamps spreads a yellow halo in the fog, bringing a touch of warmth, only to be whisked away by the passing cold wind, prompting people to pull their collars tighter.

The sound of a distant steam whistle pierces the silence.

The white lights of the train coat the rails in silver, illuminating the people with their thoughts, whether standing, sitting, leaning, or lying down.

The train, emerging from the icy, snowy lands, arrives like oil poured into a boiling pot, instantly elevating the atmosphere.

All sorrows and joys briefly take center stage here, at this moment.

As the train departs, the platform seems to return to its past silence.

Only the clock, intricately carved, keeps meticulous pace, and the fluttering leaflets silently narrate the era the train passed through.

"Royalty enslaves your kin; the nation needs you on the battlefield."

Nearly all the leaflets convey this message in various ways to those who see them.

Bursts of cold wind come, sweeping away the lingering memories, like ripples across a lake, existing between being and fading.

The flag on the leaflets is not the same as the flag now at the train station.

Judging by the nearby villages turned to ruins, a battle of attack and defense had recently taken place here.

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Clearly, the invaders had been driven out by the defending army, too hastily to take their wartime propaganda materials with them.

A figure in a black coat with silver-white patterns, wearing a black top hat, and carrying a brown leather suitcase emerges from the fog.

"The Dugrando Empire has declared war on the Urosal Empire, and even the Frosstal Kingdom and the Quintal Empire are likely to be involved."

The newcomer said to a middle-aged man sitting on a bench.

"Chaotic times are upon us again, only the Lorran Principality can remain neutral, maintaining relative peace."

"The item you requested, a relic from the quiet age." He hands the leather suitcase to the middle-aged man.

The middle-aged man, donning thick leather gloves pulled from his coat, carefully opens the case. A mist rises, revealing an exquisitely breathtaking bottle inside.

The countless fine patterns composing a masterpiece on it, in its beauty and rarity, is a work that all the court craftsmen of the Felin Kingdom combined could not achieve.

"No problem."

The middle-aged man nods.

"Hey, I didn't think we'd have the opportunity to trade."

"The era is like the sea; we must seize every opportunity to not be swallowed."

The black-clad figure exhales a breath.

"Were it not for one unexpected cooperation and transaction after another, could we still be here lamenting these matters?"

The breath he exhaled at first was very thick, but as it slowly rose into the sky, it expanded and thinned.

At its largest scale, it suddenly vanished.

Just like countless empires that have come and gone in this world.

"The Norian Kingdom will, as part of the Norian Alliance with its vassal states, declare war on the Treaty Nations the day after tomorrow, hoping you are also prepared."

"We are always prepared, ready at any moment."

"Heh, then let's hope peace returns to the continent soon."

The whistle of the train sounds again, the middle-aged man stands up, and so do the people around him.

It turns out everyone in the station is with this middle-aged man.

"May your bloodline protect you, guide the people."

"May the light be with you, hunter."

They politely salute each other.

The train moves off again, leaving an empty platform behind, the fog once more envelops everything, peaceful yet somehow unsettled.

Just like the current era, stiff yet with new turmoil stirring.

Ten days later, the Norian Alliance and the Southern Loa Holy State declare war on the Treaty Nations, marking the full outbreak of the Nine Kingdoms' War with the ensuing Battle of the Five Emperors.