The wind and snow in the Frost Wind Plane seemed a bit more biting than usual. Three days had passed since Glacier Academy was wiped off the map. Yet the searing shadow of that mushroom cloud, which had blotted out half the sky, still loomed over the hearts of every Wizard in the Frost Wind Plane.
Inside "Icebeard," the largest tavern in Snow Rock City, the atmosphere was dreadfully oppressive. The Mercenaries and merchants who usually boasted loudly now kept their voices to hushed whispers. Their conversations revolved around a single word: "North."
"Have you heard? Three Second-level Wizards from the Black Thorn Association, along with the entirety of Glacier Academy, are gone." A one-eyed Mercenary gulped down a large mouthful of hard liquor.
"What do you mean 'gone'? They evaporated! My cousin's mentor was gathering materials nearby. He saw a beam of light strike down from the heavens with his own eyes, and then... the ground started shaking like it was the end of the world."
