疾るは業の到来を告げる陣鐘。
それは静かに忍び寄り、やがて後戻りの道を掠め、
ついには身動きも、ままならず。

峠を駆ける狼の遠吠え。
それは鬨の声か、はたまた慟哭か。

時代の袂が分かたれたその先で、
天より下る裁定や、如何に―――

The rushing sound of the bell announces the enemy's arrival. It creeps up quietly, eventually reaching the point of no return, and finally renders them motionless. The distant howl of a wolf echoes across the mountain pass. Was it a battle cry, or a wail of grief? As we look out across the gulf of ages, how will the heavens mete out their judgment?