The magic boat drifted silently through the howling winds of Eversnow Mountain. Its hull, etched with ancient runes, glowed faintly against the blizzard, parting the veil of snow that seemed intent on burying all who dared trespass. Inside the cabin, Dean stood near the bow, eyes narrowed at the peaks rolling endlessly beneath them.
At his feet, Dodo crouched low, nose pressed against the frosted deck, sniffing hard. Its ears flicked uneasily.
For hours now, it had been trying to follow a trace that the mountain itself seemed determined to erase.
Finally, Dean broke the silence. He said evenly, his voice cutting through the hum of the boat's mana core, "How is it? Can you still track your master's scent?"
"Woof…" Dodo gave a hesitant bark. Its head lifted, eyes uncertain, tail swishing faintly as though it wanted to nod and shake its head at the same time.
Yes, it had found Gilgamel's scent, but it was faint and fragmented—scattered threads carried weakly on the frozen wind.
