Kent roamed through the White Desert, every step a battle against the relentless storm. The wind howled, tossing him around like a ragdoll, while the sand whipped against his skin, leaving stinging welts.
The raging storm made it impossible to see anything beyond a few feet ahead, the world around him a swirling chaos of white. Only the desert floor provided a stark contrast, its bleached white surface his only constant in the storm.
For three agonizing days, Kent fought to stay upright. Each gust of wind threatened to knock him off his feet, and more than once, he found himself sprawled on the ground, cursing his own weakness.
His body ached from the constant struggle, muscles burning with fatigue. The cold seeped into his bones, and the unending roar of the wind made it hard to think clearly.
"I have to keep going." He muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the storm.
