Chaos, pure chaos.
For the people of Lyra City, this was undoubtedly a night they would never forget.
In the early part of the night, they were joyously celebrating, ready to welcome the new era and bid farewell to the Old God.
But in the latter half, everything changed.
The fireworks had ended, yet the fire did not cease. It continued to burn wildly, but what it consumed was not gunpowder; it was the flesh of Lyra's people and their absurd, frenzied fantasies.
They watched helplessly as gear trains collided one after another on the tracks, as prosthetic limbs uncontrollably killed their owners, and as people ablaze with fire rushed out of the rubble, only to fall to the ground with agonized screams.
Everything unfolded as if it were the end of the world.
Yet, just earlier in the night, there was a future filled with hope.
Under such despair and fear, the people of Lyra instinctively turned to their spiritual anchor of thousands of years—the Sky Tower.
