On the other side of the world, at the Allied Forces' defensive line near Hotwind Port on the Eastern Continent, under the morning sunlight, a lone Elf soldier curled up in the depths of a trench that had been repeatedly ravaged by artillery fire, sheltered by decaying earthen walls, like a little boat swaying precariously in stormy weather.
His face was smeared with dirt and sweat, and his eyes shone with a glimmer of determination tinged with panic. He gripped his rifle tightly, his knuckles white from the effort, as if pouring all his strength into it. His pointed ears were constantly attuned to the surrounding sounds, afraid to miss even the slightest noise.
Suddenly, a shell streaked across the sky like a meteor, its sharp whistle chilling to the bone. It exploded beside the trench where the soldier hid, the powerful shockwave almost toppling the pit wall he leaned against.
