The alchemist of the tower was having a dream.

It was a dream of an important memory, deeply embedded in her soul.

In the dream, she was standing by the window in the fading light of her laboratory, gazing at the traces of the distant city.

The Evolution Liquid was slowly consuming the city, spreading like ink on a page.

The sky had already been overtaken by darkness, and only the faint light of the moon illuminated the laboratory.

Her brown hair fluttered in the breeze as she stood by the window, her eyes filled with deep contemplation.

In her …