Traveling through the harsh, sheer cold biome that was the tundra, Lyrian, and his crew could almost feel that the environment itself was alive. Each step felt like it triggered something else to move.
Whether it be snow being crushed under the Rock Ostriches foot, bushes swaying, snow falling from the trees, or wind howling through the air, everything felt organic and real. Creatures moved along, quickly dashing away from the group, and sometimes the group dashed away from certain creatures instead.
Right now, their goal was the final cores that they would need to pass. Fighting any creature wouldn't do them any good. This was the final stretch. It would only be a waste of time to get into a fight now.
"How much longer do we have to go?"
After Lyrian said this, Alten took a moment to look at the sun, and then at the surrounding area before replying.
"I'd say two hours! That's if we don't fight anything on the way!"
