The desolate wilderness stretches to the horizon, and the biting cold wind howls, snatching away all warmth. The people living on this land have no other choice but to migrate or to dig for a bit of food to fill their stomachs from the withered trees and the icebound rivers amidst the relentless and bone-chilling cold of day and night. They have no hope, only the absolute severity, cruelty, and harshness brought by the Frost Calamity.
The destructive wind is so terrifying that even the smallest spark would completely disappear in the dry and frigid cold, losing the ability to ignite anything at all.
Frost Calamity, Frost Calamity, all things pale under it. Only the cold frost stands strong in its demonic might, leaving only one in a hundred creatures alive in the northern parts of the North Mysterious Sacrifice Continent. The lucky ones have already migrated, while the unlucky ones continue to struggle in vain.
