"Ha, ha, cough cough..."
In the thick fog, a figure walked wearily.
The fog seemed substantial, obscuring his form as if a heavy burden was resting on his shoulders.
Each step he took was extremely difficult, his footsteps heavy and slow, as if bearing a weight several times his own.
It was as if invisible crowds were pulling at his body, unwilling to let him leave them behind.
Steven struggled to catch his breath, unscrewed his waterskin, and took a drink, trying to moisten his dry throat.
"Ha, cough cough!"
His body swayed, like a candle in the wind, threatening to topple over at any moment, stumbling from time to time.
Yet, despite his exhaustion, he did not stop walking.
He didn't know why he couldn't stop, nor did he know what it meant.
But in his heart, there was a voice constantly telling him—"You mustn't stop! You absolutely cannot stop here!"
"Once you stop, you will never be able to leave here!"
Steven didn't know whose voice it was, but he chose to believe it.
