Chapter 146 Winter Has Come

December 782.

On the western edge of the Scar of Withering, an elven village.

At this time of year, the flowers and grasses in the mountains wither and the leaves fall, but this place is still lush.

But amidst the green, there is also a hint of deathly stillness, as if the plants were not alive but rather plastic models covered in dust.

The heavy snow whirls about, covering the grayness.

The sound of horse hooves grows from a distant echo to a nearby clatter, and then a mud wall is trampled flat by a towering four-legged beast.

Pairs of leather boots kick up splashes of gray-black mud and swiftly occupy the entire village.

"No survivors in squad one."

"None in squad two either."

"Squad three..."

...

Astonishingly, not a single living person remains in the village, not even any corpses, let alone supplies.

The leading elven officer removes his helmet, revealing a face as wrinkled as tree bark, yet not like Linumu's.

It's more as if something had eaten away the flesh.