The cold wind howled!
They were already nearing the depths of the Far Northern Wasteland. The bone-piercing chill forced anyone without [Cold Resistance] to endure a daily life-drain check.
Ordinary humans would freeze to death directly atop the ice, and only frost giants and white dragons could frolic in such a brutal environment.
A refugee convoy pressed onward through the raging snowstorm.
Though they wore thick clothing, people still collapsed along the way from time to time, turning into rigid corpses.
"Grise, this can't go on!"
A paladin clad in leather armor, protected by a supernatural aura, came to a female priest and said, "Most of the faithful are ordinary people, not professionals. If this continues..."
The female priest had chestnut curls and incomparably pure azure eyes. Though her little face was frozen red and her lips purple, they remained firmly pressed together.
She looked over the convoy, gritted her teeth, and chanted several syllables.
It was clear that doing so greatly drained her mind, yet she persisted.
A glimmer of holy light emerged in her hand, enveloping more than a dozen elderly, weak, women, and children.
2nd-circle divine spell—Constant Temperature!
In the past, Grise could have cast it effortlessly as a high-ranking priest. But now, she felt as though her body were about to collapse, her mental power nearly sucked dry!
Ever since the "Great Cataclysm," the Goddess of the Weave had fallen. Not only had all mages lost the convenient Weave and suffered a massive decline in spellcasting ability, even the priests' faith networks had crumbled along with the invasion of the Outer Gods.
As a result, many low- and mid-ranking priests had lost their divine spells. Only high-ranking priests could barely maintain their spellcasting abilities, but at several times the previous cost!
Because the gods were no