The Final Curtain Call

A hundred years after the calamity, the cracks in the sky were no longer some vague legend passed down by the elderly. They had become blood-red nightmares hanging over humanity, never fading. The cracks were scattered across the world, each with a different shape, yet all equally monstrous. Some coiled above the ruins of cities like giant serpents. Black-red mist seeped endlessly from the rifts, filtering the sunlight into a murky yellow and making even daytime as oppressive as dusk.