The towering Cavis Mountains isolated the forest from the climate exchange with the mainland, making it an independent system. Even during winter, there will be no snow or frost in the Foggy Forest, but that does not mean it would be spring all year round.
Normally, areas like the Foggy Forest, which are isolated from the mainland but have a large area connected to the ocean, should have a mild and comfortable temperature. However, the actual situation is not like that. The temperature in the forest is not determined by ordinary air, but by the ubiquitous mist that permeates the entire forest.
In fact, the eerie mist does not take away the temperature in the environment. It's like a boundless and insatiable specter, seeking warmth from the living.
When winter comes, the temperature of the mist in the forest will drop sharply within about 3 days and reach its peak by the 6th day, maintaining thereafter. At that time, the temperature in the forest will be too low for most living creatures to survive. Skin exposed to the mist will instantly peel off, blood will freeze inside the blood vessels, and even the most cold-resistant organs, the eyes, will crystallize into ice beads.
At this time, the creatures in the forest will hibernate in various forms. Going underground, no doubt, is a good choice. For example, the Riverclaw Tribe of Gnolls is said to move their entire tribe underground when winter arrives.
They drive numerous Goblins to tirelessly dig underground like Dwarves, excavating more and more of the underground world in the forest. These green-skinned little Goblins have many uses, not only as laborers but also as food for the Gnolls when food is scarce.
Aside from that, most other forms of hibernation are unknown.
But the Foggy Forest in winter is not just cold and lifeless. Cold creatures like Frost Insects will awaken at this time and dominate the place. When winter comes, the forest is their domain.
In early spring, the temperature in the Foggy Forest has already started to rise, but it is still cold and bone-chilling, much lower than the outside.
Old Will cast a first-level magic called "Endure Environment" on everyone, which is extremely practical and allows the recipients to live comfortably in extreme hot or cold environments.
Barlett glanced at his exposed hands in the mist, seeing their skin rosy and muscles full and strong. When he came to the forest at this time in the past, his hands would usually be stiff and pale.
"Magic-formed things can only be fought with magic itself," Barlett whispered to himself. At this point, he began to believe some of the rumors about the formation of the mist.
In addition, Old Will also cast a magic called "Dim Vision" on everyone, which allows the recipients to see normally in dim light, but it does not work well in the mist of the Foggy Forest.
The Barbarian Adventurer walked at the very front of the team, about half a meter away from Old Will's group.
If the forest really has consciousness, would it be satisfied with the food I brought this time? Bartlett wondered whimsically, then shook his head and laughed inside, throwing this irrelevant thought behind him.
As a guide, Bartlett dutifully scanned the surrounding environment and listened carefully to the strange sounds coming from the forest. Not only that, his years of adventurous life in the Foggy Forest enabled him to see farther in the mist than ordinary people. His gaze pierced through the mist, searching for hidden dangers, while his proud sense of smell could detect any unusual odor...
Bartlett took a deep breath of the cold mist, feeling his body shudder involuntarily. The shudder did not come from fear, but from the uncontrollable excitement of facing the upcoming adventures and challenges.
However, the various strange topics from Old Will behind him made him feel that this was not a dangerous adventure where life could be lost at any moment, but a spring outing held by a leisurely noble. The only difference was that instead of being accompanied by beautiful, elegant women, he was accompanied by several men of different sizes and races.
In Bartlett's view, Old Will, the mage, seemed to not only enjoy peering into the minds of others but also liked to express his own thoughts to others, regardless of whether they were willing to listen or not.
"I lived in Valetta City State, not far from Norde, for quite some time." Old Will chatted, "I think I was only 50 years old at the time, no, 60 years old. In any case, I was still very young back then."
A young 60-year-old? That's an interesting way of putting it, Bartlett thought to himself sarcastically. Magic power can significantly delay aging, and both mages and magical beasts, mutated by the infusion of magic power, have much longer lifespans than normal individuals of their species. This is common knowledge on the continent.
However, when confronted with this fact, one can't help but feel envious.
Why do mages need to live so long when they are already so powerful? Many ordinary people must have had this thought, but it doesn't include Bartlett.
He had faced death several times but never feared it. Sometimes, he even thought that dying in the Foggy Forest would be quite a nice way to go. As a Norde and an adventurer who had seen life and death, Bartlett did not yearn for a long lifespan. But in battle, he never let his guard down.
Old Will's voice continued to reach Bartlett from behind, "My mentor was appointed by the Magic Association to the Valetta City State, where he was responsible for the operation of the branch and the mage tower. As the only apprentice still with him at the time, I followed him away from the Floating City. My mentor's family was of brewing origin, so he enjoyed drinking. And as his apprentice, I gradually developed a fondness for this delightful liquid."
"In Valetta City State, I once had a blended liquor called 'Wrath of the Red Dragon.'" Old Will smacked his lips, as if recalling the taste of that drink, "This concoction was made from Spicy Liquor produced in Norde, mixed with pine oil, ammonia, gunpowder, and devil pepper chili powder. When drinking it, the metal cup had to be heated over a campfire until steam rose from it. Can you imagine what it would taste like in your mouth?"
Bartlett didn't know much about liquor; even Spicy Liquor, the favorite of Nords, he seldom drank. Whether money was tight or not, he only drank rye beer with a slight bitterness, a favorite of adventurers. The high alcohol content and low price of rye beer allowed adventurers to forget all their troubles.
"Like swallowing a ball of fire?" the Half-Elven ventured.
"Fire doesn't taste good," the Ogre Morris said in a deep voice, "ham is good!"
"Haha, very apt, but it's even more intense than that," Old Will laughed, "To tell you the truth, the taste of that liquid can't even be described with the word 'flavor,' because you can't feel any taste at all. It's like a red-hot sword piercing straight through your mouth and into your stomach, and the sword keeps going down, as if trying to impale you. It's also like being pinned to the ground by a healthy adult Red Dragon, who's passionately kissing your lips and breathing its dragon's breath into your mouth. Of course, this is also the origin of its name."
"That's...," the Half-Elven didn't know what to say, "very unique."
"Yes, but it's not just unique." Old Will's eyes gazed into the distance, seemingly lost in memories, "You can't even think straight, as that 'dragon's breath' burns through your brain, turning it into ashes. Yet somehow, you seem to see even more because of it. Various illusory colors dance before your eyes, beautiful fairies, I mean, not your kin, Estelle." Old Will corrected himself, "I'm talking about those tiny creatures with two pairs of wings. Some beautiful fairies are swirling around you, laughing and chattering, seemingly dancing. You want to join them, but no sooner have you taken two steps than you fall flat on your face..."
Only someone with a screw loose would drink such a thing, Bartlett thought to himself.
Just then, he suddenly stopped, placed his hand on Iron Bride, and frowned as he looked into the depths of the mist on his left. The next moment, as he was about to signal to the others that something was happening, someone else made the alert first.
"Someone's coming," said the dwarf sitting on the Ogre's shoulder, speaking for the first time since Bartlett met him.
...