The most enthusiastic event of their expedition began without any omen.
There was no roar of beasts, no violent spatial distortion, and no fluctuation of hostile aura. It began with nothing more than a warm breeze.
The wind brushed past their faces gently, carrying a faint sweetness that did not belong to ordinary air. It seeped into their lungs, into their blood, and even into their consciousness. The tension accumulated from battles, trials, and pursuit gradually loosened.
Their steps slowed.
Their alertness dulled.
Without realizing when it happened, their bodies felt light, as though gravity itself had weakened. It felt as if they were drifting rather than walking.
Like feathers carried by a current.
They descended upon the land.
