Three hundred thirty-eight days.
Jack had counted every single one of them during the journey across Floor 24's crimson wasteland.
The forest was the only exception to the environment.
Every morning waking to that blood-red sky. Every night making camp while Kyren stood watch with inhuman patience.
Three hundred thirty-eight days of planning, and preparing for what lay ahead.
And now, finally, he stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking his destination.
The Black Ice Castle.
Jack's yellow eyes narrowed as he took in the sight before him, his breath misting slightly in the suddenly frigid air.
The temperature had dropped at least thirty degrees in the last mile, a clear indicator that they were entering Pho's domain.
"Well," S said from beside him, peeling a tangerine with his usual casual precision, "that's certainly impressive. In a 'I'm compensating for something' sort of way."
The castle wasn't a castle. It was a fortress city carved entirely from black ice.
