The breath became sharp and cold.
Before his eyes was a scene covered in silver and white; countless towering ancient trees tens of meters high stood in the forest, and the snow-covered mountains lay sprawling.
Above him was a massive cliff, rising several dozen meters high.
Steam lingered around, and the melting snow turned into streams that flowed past him.
This was a gigantic cave, situated on a cliff a thousand feet high.
Truly, it was immense.
And it bore signs of human construction, clearly not the work of nature's craftsmanship.
Losa's eyes were filled with confusion. Wasn't I in Rashid before? Later... I must have been hit by the dying counterattack of that Ghost Dragon.
This place is definitely not Egypt.
It might not snow in Egypt even once in a hundred years, let alone support the cold-zone coniferous forests, which are entirely different from Mediterranean vegetation.
So, in its dying moments, did that Ghost Dragon send me to Northern Europe?
