Chapter 377: Beneath the Snow, Beneath the Lie
Dren's lungs burned.
Not from the cold — he barely felt that anymore, especially since he grew up in Nirvana — but from the brutal, relentless pace his body had been forced to keep for the past several hours.
Snow clung to his boots, his pants were ripped nearly to the thigh on one side, and one sleeve of his jacket hung in useless tatters where a Mirelurker had nearly dragged him under. His knuckles were raw and split, blood already stiffening in the cold, and a dull ache throbbed through his ribs every time he drew a breath too deep.
And yet —
He was grinning.
Ten Mirelurkers.
They had done it.
Team Four stood scattered across the clearing behind him, exhausted shapes against the white forest, each member bearing their own marks of battle. One leaned heavily against a tree, clutching a bruised shoulder. Another sat in the snow, panting, a bandage already darkening through. No one had escaped untouched.
Not one of them.
