Surrounded by the surging waves of the Icefrost Sea, a solitary island swayed back and forth, separated from civilization.

A dense forest dominated the island’s domain, and deep within this forest resided a sequestered glade. An enormous boulder sat at the center of this grassy hideaway.

Jutting out from the side of the boulder, a stalwart blade, rusted from the passage of time, pointed at the sky. If one looked closely at the top-flat side of the blade, one would discover a small shell stuck motionless on its surface.

A couple of sticky, elastic appendages appeared from the shell’s opening and stretched towards the sky, revealing a pair of annoyed eyes at their tips. Sometimes known as eyestalks, these appendages were the snail’s tentacles, and its primary way of glaring at things like the sky.

"I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out…” a depressed voice muttered.

The rusty sword below the snail hummed in response. A weak glow emanated from its body that seemed to show concern towards its tiny neighbor.

The snail turned its tentacles from the sky towards the blade.

"You already know why! I am bored to death. How many years do you think we've been waiting here? I'm not a tool like you, content with being idle!"

The sword stopped humming. It gave off a harsher, more menacing glow, displaying its silent anger.

"Don't give me that,” the snail scolded, “Show deference to your master.”

The sword remained silent, but it obediently withdrew its aura. The snail then returned its gaze upwards. It could not help but yell at the cloudless sky and shining sun.

"Why won't you just die, you old fart?! How much longer must I wait here?"

Hearing no response, as usual, the snail helplessly closed its eyes, and its tentacles slackened and drooped limply onto the face of the blade.

Once the sun had set, and the moon had taken its place, the sword let out a soft hum that caused the snail to crack open its right eyelid, revealing a glint.

"What kind of game?" it asked, intrigued.