The Sentinel

Five centuries ago, 57 minutes of excruciating agony - endured by the Volunteer - sealed within a prism the immortal body of the man who had burned half of humanity to ash: the obsessed with the OdT8 core, the corrupter of souls, the rotter of flesh.

Now, in Arctar - a metropolis of skyscrapers and dead soil -a solitary student dreams of a faceless protector. A scarred heir's eye holds a fragment of what should have long been destroyed. A socially killed genius waits, watching the tides rise. Drills pierce the earth. Faint whispers say the seal is weakening. The Four Great Trees are dying, searching for their respective Chosen. The city remains clueless.

When the inevitable comes, Arctar's dead soil will be the first to bloom - in blood.

For the prism was never meant to last.