Murkato tried for the tenth time to use her mana. But nothing worked. The black snow fell from the skies, painting everything black. The beautiful white walls of the Architect's Quadrant were now black and grey, the intricate and showy clothes of the nobles were full of grey spots, everyone's faces were stained.
From a glance, everyone looked no different from each other, bums loitering the streets, staring at each other like two packs of animals ready to jump at each other's throats.
Normally, that would be the end of it. Even dirty, nobles would still be nobles, as they would still be mages. The commoners around them would never even think of fighting back against them.
But in this dark and dreary world, everyone was truly on the same exact level. Because as long as this black snow kept falling, no mage would be able to use magic.
Murkato had an idea for what this could be.
'Are these parts of the monsters beyond the barrier?'
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