At the edge of the Caucasus Mountains in the Russian Federation, the deafening sound of collapse came from afar.
Yet it could not be heard clearly.
In the distance, earth-shaking tides seemed to be surging, yet they could not be seen clearly either.
The whole world seemed about to drown in a suffocating whiteness. All that could be seen was endless snowfall, heavy flakes drifting down from the sky.
It had already lasted a week...
The biting cold seeped through their lungs and into their bodies, making even their souls seem sluggish. Their heavy coats were soaked through with melted snow, then quickly froze, like a thick layer of armor draped over them, making every step difficult.
Once the entire world had turned bleak white, the countless figures upon the earth became tiny as well, like struggling black dots laboring onward along railway tracks buried beneath layer after layer of snow.
Urgent commands kept blaring from the loudspeakers.
But they could not carry far before being swallowed by the flying snow.
All they could hear were the exhausted gasps of those beside them, the dull thud of shovels biting into snow, and the sharp clang of pickaxes striking solid ice...
"Faster, faster!"
The staggering old man dragged one lame leg behind him, gripping a loudspeaker as he shouted at the people ahead. "The blizzard has been going on for sixteen hours! This batch of supplies has to get through!"
Yet amid the busy, clamorous chaos, a staggering figure rushed forward.
The middle-aged man's face was deathly pale, white frost covered his beard, and his long-numb face twitched constantly.
"We can't keep digging, Valia! We can't!" he shouted hoarsely. "We're running out of time! We have to withdraw! Right now..."
"Have you lost your fucking mind?" The old man flew into