Crisis Point
Wind Zone 9, in the expansive lands that painted a desolate picture, 15 trucks trailed across a beaten path, forming a long line. The numbers plastered on their surface ranged from 101 to 115, the tracks formed on the ground deeper than before.
The weight of each truck had increased by a multiple, thanks to the contents they carried. In truck numbered 108, a figure sat in its control room, watching the surroundings in alertness. The figure looked like one in his fifties, sporting a slightly tired expression.
He had already activated his domain, encompassing a circular area with a radius of more than 9 kilometres. Held in his hand was a crystal, pink in colour, the size of a rice grain. It had five stripes on its surface, the aura emanating from it made the air flicker, creating faint sparks that sought to ignite the volatile substances in it.