Over two hundred years ago, the biting cold wind tore through the earth, even the Lowell Camp near the equator wasn't spared much.
Two figures limped through the cold wind.
One was wearing power armor, the other a full protective suit with the Academy's emblem, and from the fog condensing on the inside of their helmet visors, they both seemed to be quite injured.
This was indeed the case; fierce resistance was never free of charge.
The thermal insulation system was already damaged.
The temperature of minus 30 degrees was helpless even for sticky fungi, let alone them who were about to lose their last means of keeping warm.
By the time the water vapor turned to ice, it would pretty much be the end for them.
But even so, their situation was better than the corpse they were carrying—
The blood flowing from the wounds had frozen into red ice, sealing the bullet holes, freezing the twisted face, and almost freezing the maddened desires.
