Divine Age creatures possess far greater environmental adaptability than humans. Otherwise, there would be no explanation for why every being I've encountered on this journey has been a giant species.
"Where are the people?"
After walking for nearly half an hour, Li Mo began to grasp the true scale of this Lostbelt. In the game, it had felt insignificant - just clicking through dialogue. Reality was completely different.
In other worlds, he could employ many more sensory abilities. But in this Scandinavian Lostbelt, the snow was saturated with magical energy, severely interfering with most magic-based detection spells.
At this point, Li Mo could only rely on spells that enhanced his own perception, like Eagle Eye techniques.
He found himself wishing the Stigmata within him would hurry up and complete his physical enhancement.
But these things couldn't be rushed. Back in Teyvat, he had suppressed the Stigmata's development to focus on completing the "Pseudo-Simulated Astral Chart: Mystery Foundation."
The power of the Stigmata originated from that certain Son of the Cross in the A Certain Magical Index world. Since Teyvat had no such legend, its influence had weakened. But here in the Type-Moon world, where that story existed, the Stigmata had found a template to emulate. With Li Mo no longer suppressing it, it was steadily evolving.
The Stigmata enhanced not just physical strength but also senses like vision, eliminating the need for reinforcement spells - not that maintaining such spells was any burden for Li Mo.
As he traveled, Li Mo encountered few living creatures. The landscape was desolate, with the only interruptions being the occasional giant - mindless beings that charged at him on sight as if their brains had been eaten by zombies.
Naturally, he cut them down.
No means of communication, nothing but hostility - what else could he do?
Li Mo adjusted his course toward the border between the Flame Mountains and Frost Peaks. If his judgment was correct, that transitional zone might contain a marginally survivable environment. While not suitable for humans, radiating outward from there he might finally find signs of civilization.
—Better than wandering aimlessly.
But plans rarely survived contact with reality.
While crossing a snowy ridge, Li Mo noticed something unusual - the giants were gathering, their movements coordinated as if drawn to a single location.
Following the disturbance with hands clasped behind his back, Li Mo encountered more giants along the way - all meeting the same fate.
He didn't even bother using advanced magecraft. Why waste effort on appetizers when the main course might lie ahead?
When he finally caught up, the scene unfolded: a pack of giants in frenzied pursuit of two humans.
The fleeing figures moved with desperate agility - clearly young, though the woman was nearing exhaustion.
Sacrificial offerings sent from their village upon reaching a certain age? So young?
This Lostbelt had no elderly. In this resource-scarce era, those who could no longer work had no right to live. Harsh but pragmatic.
—Much like the "ubasute" abandonment tradition of ancient Japan, or the story depicted in "The Ballad of Narayama."
Yet these two appeared to be in their prime.
"Should have reviewed the storyline more carefully."
Li Mo had focused his research on the Atlantic Lostbelt and the Temple of Time. This Scandinavian Lostbelt? Only a passing glance.
The plot hadn't seemed particularly compelling.
Knowing the gist had seemed sufficient.
"Dragon's Shadow."
Dark figures emerged from the snow, shadow warriors leaping down the ridge with battle cries.
Though individually weaker than the giants, they outnumbered them. By the time Li Mo descended, the fight was over - the last giants collapsing into the snow with heavy thuds.
The two humans now stood protected by the shadow warriors. Li Mo approached.
"Greetings."
After introductions, the man identified himself as Gudmund, the woman as Dorthe. Both from Village No. 14, exactly twenty-five years old. Partners - and spouses.
By divine decree, all who reached that age had to leave their village.
Li Mo's practical questions - Where from? Where going? What will you do? - were answered smoothly.
Gudmund and Dorthe seemed to regard Li Mo as a divine emissary, answering earnestly when they knew, admitting ignorance when they didn't.
"So your destination is the border between the Frost Peaks and Flame Mountains?"
"Yes, great emissary."
"That area might be barely survivable. But only just."
"If even there we cannot endure, then it is the fate ordained by the gods. We will face death with honor and ascend to Valhalla," Gudmund declared.
Li Mo noted their complete lack of fear toward death - only acceptance.
Typical Norse pragmatism.
"Well, I'm heading that way myself. I'll escort you."
"Our gratitude, great emissary."
Their relief was palpable.
Li Mo soon extracted all their knowledge - down to how many children they'd left behind. To them, the village was their entire world. From birth to exile, they'd never stepped beyond its borders.
The outside wasn't meant for survival.
Nothing grew in these frozen wastes. No photosynthesis, no crops - how could humans persist?
Guiding them across the ridge, Li Mo reached the transitional zone - a stretch of grassland between the icy cliffs and burning frontier where temperatures balanced into something tolerable.
Of course, the giants favored it too.
"Seems they prefer this climate as well."
From their vantage point, the threat was clear. Yet Gudmund and Dorthe remained calm. To them, leaving the village had been a death sentence. Every extra moment was borrowed time.
"What will you do now?" Li Mo asked.
The couple exchanged glances.
"We press on," Dorthe said, pointing toward the plain.
Better to die there than in the frozen wastes.
Li Mo offered an alternative.
"What if you came with me instead?"