A Place Filled with Ominous Mist.
Hundreds of poles were stuck in the ground like gravestones.

A wind carrying the dampness in the air swept through every few minutes, bringing with it a faint scent of blood.

Whoosh—

Yet, the poles did not fall, even in the wind. Though clearly made of wood, the poles that had appeared here from some distant time were still sturdy.

And they all looked similar. It was impossible to distinguish which was the weapon of the three heroes.

"..." "..."

Cara and Lotta were examining the poles that had been gathered from various …