Back to Kairos' side.
The march south was utterly brutal. The Vanguard Generals and the Colosseum Champions did not ride wind horses. The air was too thin, and the mana in the atmosphere was too weak to support the magical beasts for a long journey. They marched on foot. They moved, pushing their enhanced bodies to cross the distance on a grueling day. As they crossed the southern border, the world instantly changed.
In the east, the Black Mist was freezing cold. It was silent, and devoid of life. But the south was the exact opposite. The south was boiling.
The sky above the jagged wastelands was a burning red, like an open wound in the heavens. Thick clouds of dark gray ash fell from the sky like dirty snow, covering the cracked earth. The air smelled of raw sulfur, burning wood, and the copper scent of old blood. It felt like walking into a massive, lit oven.
Kairos walked at the front of the group, right beside Seyana and his father, Karl.
