The marshlands.
The air was thick with moisture.
The plants' transpiration, along with the countless streams and pools scattered throughout the marsh, kept the entire area perpetually damp.
Under such conditions, vast quantities of plankton flourished unchecked.
Once he left the area where the portal had been built,
there was nowhere on the ground to set foot.
If it had merely been wet soil and soft sand,
then walking would only have been somewhat more difficult.
But the most terrifying thing about a marsh was this:
the surfaces of mud pits and pools were covered in moss or blanketed by dead branches and fallen leaves.
At a glance, they looked like yellow or green carpets.
Yet the moment one stepped on them,
one would discover they were no different from stepping on water.
This was a magical world. There was no water-treading training from the neighboring bloodline world here.
So, after stepping into several pits,
Cypher cursed as he climbed up a tree.
He obediently began playing the part of Tarzan.
The branches were tangled and complicated. Cypher darted through the treetops, only to have his path blocked now and then by intertwined vines.
That was when the Sword of Gryffindor showed its worth.
It was exceptionally handy for chopping wood as well.
Cypher silently marveled to himself.
There was a reason Gryffindor had never gone anywhere without his sword.
A sword that could fight, defend, and clear the wilderness was truly an adventurer's best choice.
"Cypher! While things are still relatively peaceful, let me tell you where the Guardians of Order came from."
"Normally, as a race grows stronger, its reproductive ability inevitably declines. The reverse is also true."
As a tiny figurine formed from magic, Alice could now easily fly around Cypher.
She flew before him as she