Zelros drew his sword, pointing it toward the direction of the distant rift in the void, where the chaotic fluctuations were intensifying, and subtle ripples began to shake the barrier.
The wilderness outside the camp was covered with thick snow, occasionally pierced by a few wolf howls, making the night even more desolate.
Inside the tent, the firelight flickered, casting shadows of fatigued yet resolute faces.
David sat on a low stool made of meteoric iron, his eyes closed, sweat trickling down his temples.
The gray spot spreading on his left arm seemed alive, constantly writhing, a mutation curse brought by the fusion of hellfire and the Frost Wolf Bloodline.
The air was filled with a strange mixture of gunpowder and frost.
Amy and Reina stood silently by his side, their expressions complex, a mix of worry and belief that they could control everything.
"David..."
