The blizzard is cold.
The demon realm ruled by the evil god Omeros is preserved in eternal winter. The reason northern winds and snowstorms raged in the midsummer territory was deeply related to that.
Because it meant the gates of the demon realm had opened.
The disaster that struck my longed-for hometown was like that. A situation that a mere second son of a viscountcy could never handle, truly a catastrophe that should be called a natural disaster.
Suddenly, the advice from the man from the future came to mind.
‘Discard what must be discarded.’
Yes, I thought those words were undoubtedly the truth.
The ‘love letters from the future’ always guided the right path. The man who advised me was one who had traversed countless battlefields, struggled, and suffered.
Naturally, his judgment should be correct.
Didn’t I deliberately think that way and turn my eyes away?
The price of that is now in my arms.
Haa, haa. The exhaled…