[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Outskirts]
The gray plains stretched endlessly around them, a bleak patch of dead grass, dead earth, and old patches of trees that looked half-starved. Rivers cut through the land in unnatural angles—rivers whose waters ran murky, carrying the soured stench of something long-rotted. And the air clung to their lungs with a decaying odor.
Against such emptiness, their small group looked painfully noticeable, dark silhouettes moving across an old landscape.
Alexander broke the silence with a groan. "Are we seriously walking this entire way? No mounts, no carriage, nothing? This is torture."
"That makes complaint number six," Tamamo-no-Mae chimed from Dante's shoulder, tails swaying lazily. "At this point, I should start counting them properly. You're becoming predictable."
"I don't wanna hear that from you," Alexander snapped, pointing a finger at her accusingly. "You're not even walking—you're freeloading!"
