The last fifteen kilometers to Goldenveil were the most grueling walk of Theron's life, his muscles screaming in protest with every movement.
His knees threatened to give out at any moment, and his eyes, heavy with exhaustion, could barely focus on the trail ahead.
Dried blood caked his torn clothes, while the biting wind cut into his open wounds like tiny blades.
Finally, he began to feel the magical density in the air increase.
Yes, Goldenveil had always had a strangely high magical density.
Theron quickened his pace, forcing his trembling legs to obey.
He needed to reach Goldenveil and find a healer soon, or he wouldn't live to see the next dawn.
He didn't have much money on him, but it would be enough to pay for a healer doctor. At least, that's what he hoped.
"Ugh… isn't the density a little too high?" he muttered to himself, spitting out a thick strand of blood as he kept moving forward.
