The icy grip of the battlefield was beginning to thaw.
Scattered embers still flickered in the distance, their glow barely visible against the vast stretches of frozen land. The once overwhelming chill that gnawed at Adam's bones had begun to ease, giving way to a gradual warmth seeping back into the air.
The oppressive frost, and the rigid stillness, both were fading as though nature itself was reclaiming its balance.
Adam exhaled, his breath no longer forming thick clouds of vapor. The battle had ended, leaving behind only the scars of destruction...charred ground, shattered ice, and scattered remnants of what was once a violent clash between predator and prey.
Amidst the wreckage, his eyes landed on something that shouldn't have survived.
It was the envelope for Mewroar, that Minerva gave him.
As he held it up, he couldn't help but ask.
"Again, how did this thing even survive?"
He asked, but no response came.
Somehow, against all odds, it remained untouched.
