Michael strode through the snowy streets, the people meeting his gaze briefly before minding their own business.
It was unreal how no one reacted to his get-up; it was a bit ridiculous, after all.
Nonetheless, since it worked out, he wouldn't question it.
He passed by a few bars and stores, some of which stocked all sorts of ammunition. It seemed this city—Driftmoor—was quite fond of machine-made weapons.
Michael could only let out a sigh. He had tried using a sniper back then, but it proved futile. He was just glad that an alternative came along soon enough.
Besides that, the people looked pretty relaxed, a stark contrast to the tales he had heard of this place—a continent riddled with monsters.
That did not mean there weren't any elements indicating monster activity, however. Most of the clothing the people wore was made out of some kind of monster's hide.
