Azrael crouched, examining the soil. It bore some resemblance to the human world; there was dirt and grass growing atop it. However, just as he expected, the lands didn't look fertile.
The earth wasn't brown in color, but black. Dense and solid as stone.
'I don't think it has ever rained in here,' he analyzed, glancing back at the lava ocean.
The idea of lava rain passed over his mind, which made his spine turn cold.
Shaking his head, he focused on the grass.
Since they weren't in the human world, every form of life was bound to be different. The grass wasn't green but had a hue resembling pure gold.
"Planting seeds here is out of the question…" he muttered, eyes trailing towards his system, or more accurately towards Gravebloom.
The weapon was said to be able to harvest even in the harshest climates—maybe the gift that Seyra had rewarded him with could very well save his life.
