They had heard before that, aside from Ciri, someone else had successfully escaped the slave mines. But that person had suffered a mental breakdown, becoming a drooling idiot.
It was too tragic. He had spent painful years at the construction sites here, then somehow endured countless hardships to return to his own world. Yet the extremes of grief and joy had driven him mad, leaving him to continue living as a simpleton.
Even if he regained his memories, recalling the suffering he had endured in this universe would probably drive him to suicide. After all, people here were not treated as people at all.
The simplest issue was that the slaves here had no food. To survive, they had to find their own way while still completing their work. Other than fellow slaves, their masters' crops, and the endless White Frost, there was nothing else around them that could be eaten.
Stealing their masters' food would get them brutally tortured to death. Eating White Frost or snow would not fill their stomachs. But if they ate their fellow slaves, there would be no problem.
The Elf Race frequently launched the Wild Hunt to abduct people because slaves were consumed too quickly. Still, they did not mind. With the ability to draw blood from other multiverses, they had every reason to be confident.
In truth, the Elf Race wanted to escape too, to leave this city that had once belonged to the Vampires and relocate their entire race to another world. But since they could not catch Ciri, they could only think about it.
Deathstroke released an improved version of the Stitched Monster Virus among the slaves. Now, the Biohazard Crisis could be seen spreading at a visible rate. The frost-covered land that had once been nothing but white was now