Three hundred years have passed since the Gray Mist descended.
City-states have fallen, kingdoms have retreated behind their borders, and anyone touched by the mist becomes a mindless Mist Nightmare.
People fear the mist like a calamity. The nobility abandons its cities and flees, the Church raises towering holy walls, and the legions are driven back step by step.
Then one day, in the northern reaches of the Kingdom of Orland, a heavily indebted baron and last of his line inherited a forbidden ghost city long since swallowed by the Gray Mist.
Everyone said that Graeme was dead.
It was a cursed city.
A site of the evil gods, where no one dared enter and no one could leave alive.
But after Lane Gray awoke, he saw an eye deep within the ghost city.
It devours the Gray Mist and refines mist crystals.
It illuminates the uncanny and glimpses the source of all things.
It tames Mist Nightmares and cultivates sealed lands.
It recognizes only Gray blood.
The nobles of the royal capital sneered that he was mad.
The Church’s inquisitors warned him never to enter the mist.
The border lords waited for him to die on his own territory.
Lane merely gazed at the dead city shrouded in Gray Mist and asked calmly:
“You say this is the doom of a fallen kingdom?”
“But to me...”
“This is clearly a mine that no one has ever truly developed.”
