At that moment, the Northern Legion soldiers sheltered in the trenches gripped the weapons beside them, poked their heads slightly above the trenches, and warily watched the snowfield ahead, unchanged from one year to the next.
If it were your first time there, you would have been captivated by the snowy scenery on the fringes of the Far North. Everything was white, its contours sometimes gentle, sometimes sharp, forming a dreamlike scene when sunlight spilled over it.
The sight would have stirred some beautiful memory, or sent you searching your mind for elegant words with which to adorn it.
But if you had stayed there for a long time, or even lived there, like the Northern Legion soldiers stationed there at that moment, you would often have complained about the damned bitter cold, and about how the glare reflected off the snow sometimes dazzled your eyes until you could no longer make out the distant scenery.
You might even have become a person of few words. After all, when you stood outside with fierce winds lashing snowflakes against your face, you had no desire to speak at all.
Of course, neither of those mindsets was present among the Northern Legion soldiers at that moment. They were all waiting somewhat apprehensively for something.
Beside them, some of the other Northern Legion soldiers were still reinforcing fortifications, along with the entire Northern Legion's mecha, Soul Cannons...
Every usable weapon and round of ammunition, every person capable of fighting, was on this battle line.
Many of the ordinary soldiers had not truly realized what they were about to face.
Still, these soldiers knew in their hearts that whatever they faced, it certainly would not be Soul Beasts from the Far North.
After all, some time had passed since the great battle in Shrek