Honma Noriko trudged through the snow.
Her breathing was rapid, each exhale visible as frost, and with every step, she moved slowly, utterly exhausted.
The expensive socks stuck to the wet and torn shoes, her clothes covered in snowflakes and ice crystals, her untended hair hanging loosely, resembling a wild man.
Shaojun followed his mother with difficulty.
As soon as the divine war ended, they hurried out of the bunker and boarded the same emergency shuttle machine with her, retreating to the tundra region in the north of the New Taixi State.
Living in constant fear.
Honma Noriko could hear her son's footsteps, and without looking, she could sense his deep terror.
His pale cheeks were undoubtedly stained with tears, his small body trembling violently.
They hadn't eaten anything more nutritious than bark for many days.
A hundred and fifty years of painstaking effort, ending so grotesquely? All the meticulously crafted plans now thrown into chaos.
