On the outskirts of an ancient city now in ruins three weapons are seen embedded in the ground: a key-shaped sword, a staff with intricate designs on the head, and a ball; nearby a group of seven are resting by a campfire in silence as the air seems stifled with a feeling of sadness, suddenly one of the group rises and rests his gloved hand on the shoulder of the brunette as if to provide comfort to her, the two share a glance before the hand was removed and the group member climbs the nearby hill to look out over the ruins.

Narration: Listen to my story, this…maybe our last chance.