Beyond the portal lay the freezing lands of the North Pole, deep within the Arctic Circle. Frosty white snowflakes drifted elegantly onto the landscape, blanketing it in a blissful, angelic white. The cold air tickled the nostrils, extremely pure yet choking to inhale at the same time.
Rolan felt the cold embrace his body down to his fingertips, shivering involuntarily as his chattering teeth played like a musical instrument. Immortal or not, Rolan was tortured by the immense stinging occurring on the surface of his skin, his bones restricted like rusted iron. Every breath was a weight on his lungs.
"Haaa..." He exhaled a breath of cold smoke.
Rolan stood isolated atop a stack of ice, crouching as he took note of the other rookies' individual behavior. In the middle of a stubborn snow blast, they gathered around Antadisma, who stood in wait.
