The teleportation was swift ..only a matter of seconds before Frey and his companions erased the distance, reaching the other side of the world, where the Holy Island of Sicily lay.
The trio materialized on that thriving land, swords drawn, ready to fight at once—they had come prepared for dozens of possible scenarios.
Yet, against all expectations… the place where Frey and the others landed was completely empty.
They scanned the area around them, silence stretching between them for a time.
Lush, fertile grassland. Towering, flourishing trees.
A clean, refreshing aura.
The air was fresh, carrying a strange atmosphere for those who had spent the entire past month fighting in the dead lands of the Ultras.
Compared to that cursed wasteland they came from, the Holy Island felt like paradise—especially with that colossal waterfall cascading down from the heavens, feeding it endlessly.
Scanning his surroundings, Frey's expression hardened.
"I don't see Uriel anywhere."
