In a primeval forest with no satellite navigation, where compasses failed and visibility was extremely low, how fast could people travel?
The answer was no more than three kilometers per hour.
And because they had to carry heavy loads, the few people who rarely engaged in strenuous physical labor found it incredibly exhausting.
Since Allen had deliberately given the members of this team no help whatsoever, they had to sit down and rest after every short stretch.
Coupled with the monster attacks they had encountered earlier, as well as the dark, cold surroundings, everyone was in a state of extreme tension, tinged with frustration and despair.
Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, the two scientists responsible for logistics, were especially helpless. Having lost their advanced equipment and electronic instruments, they could no longer provide the team with any support.
If Allen had not still worn such a calm expression, some of them would probably have already broken down.
After all, no one knew how long they would have to remain in this perilous world.
Nor did they know how they would survive once their water and food ran out, or after they used up all their Silver-Plated Bullets.
The intense sense of crisis was like a demon, constantly devouring everyone's hearts.
Coulson, who was leading the team, knew especially well that the longer time passed, the less control he would have over this hastily assembled group.
In the end, a tragedy of mutual slaughter might even break out over food, water, and ammunition.
So after traveling continuously for roughly ten hours, he finally took advantage of everyone else silently resting to approach Allen without a sound and ask in a low voice, "How far are we from the castle and village in the photograph?"
"About another four or five hours of