On the New Continent running north to south, the Galliot Duchy in the northern hemisphere was locked in deep winter, but in the southern hemisphere, the Golden Palm Federation was in the blazing heat of midsummer.
A middle-aged gentleman with a completely forgettable, utterly average face strolled leisurely out of the ever more prosperous Camside City. Yet the moment he passed through the shadow cast by a rubber tree under the fierce sun, he abruptly vanished without a trace.
Swish!
At the same time, a huge, dense flock of birds burst up from this woodland, soaring into the sky and flying toward the southwest, deeper into the Federation.
Just like that.
Aiven would sometimes turn into a New Continent tit and dance with the flock, sometimes turn into a dragonfly skimming across rippling water, sometimes into a salmon crossing a river...
