The prickly, cold snow, clumped into tiny ice pellets and lifted by the gusty wind, literally scratched the skin and constantly tried to get into the eyes. The narrow gorge through which the small squad of earthlings was moving felt like an icy tunnel, with a fan at one end turned on full blast.

Covering his eyes with his hand, Nate looked back.

A few months ago, he had promised himself that he would become a loner and never again take responsibility for other people's lives. But fate and chance had played a game with him for stakes so high that he had had to forget the promise he'd made to himself.

It all started with meeting Flavius. Fraser liked this guy. He had that touch of madness and courage that Nate so valued. At the same time, these traits in Flavius were balanced by a maturity beyond his years and a measured approach to assessing danger. Moreover, the guy, as it turned out, knew the new world even better than Nate himself, having managed to travel quite a bit.

He was also very lucky with his starting group, which included some sly, charismatic chancer who managed to build a rapport with the locals literally within the first hours of arriving in Ain. This immediately gave Flavius' group a huge advantage over many other earthlings. They were provided with knowledge about the world that others had to learn through sweat, blood, and death. Imagine—this adventurer, leading Flavius' group, even managed to negotiate with the local sheriff to train the earthlings in weaponry and magic! He also arranged joint expeditions into dungeons.

Recalling Flavius's stories about the beginning of his journey in Ain, Nate grimaced with anger once again. Anger not at that smooth-talking chancer who had managed to set up Flavius's group so well, but at himself. If only he had been more diplomatic, the members of his own group who had believed in him and followed him would still be alive.

Nate understood that this Raven hadn't done anything wrong to him, but if that adventurer appeared before him now, he would break his jaw without hesitation. Although, according to Flavius's stories, this Raven was quite adept at breaking others' noses, legs, arms, and jaws himself. So, who knew how such a meeting would end—and that uncertainty made Fraser's fists itch even more!

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Adjusting the sword scabbard, Nate counted the figures following him in the snowstorm. One, two, three, four... and there was the fifth. All present.

Nearly three weeks ago, after listening to Flavius, Nate decided to help the earthling and lead him out of the Northern Wastelands to more habitable areas.

But they had barely left the fort when they encountered another earthling who had to be rescued, dragging his nearly unconscious body to the walls of the small fortress. To save the newcomer, the fort's healer demanded the liver of a white wolverine.

Not the largest of monsters, but one of the most ferocious and mad inhabitants of this icy desert. Flavius volunteered to help, and together they tracked and killed the creature, obtaining the needed ingredient, but on the way back, they had to save yet another earthling from a pack of winter foxes.

It seemed the Wasteland itself didn't want to let Fraser go. As soon as he thought about leaving these parts and heading south, fate would immediately throw in his path another of those who would have perished without his help.

Thus, his group gradually grew to seven people. And in a general meeting, they decided that, since there were probably many earthlings in difficult situations in the Wastelands, they ought to find them and help them. Or rather, it was Fraser who proposed it, and everyone supported him.

A whole week had passed since that memorable day. Seven days during which his newly formed squad lost only one of its members in these northern wastelands, literally teeming with various dangers and monsters.

Only, Nate wasn't too upset about this loss. That earthling had been doomed from the start in Ain. He had the talents of an excellent mage, but instead of honing them, he loved to swing his fists or charge into battle against a monster with an axe in hand. Some would call it bravery, but considering that the guy, who introduced himself as Max Kramer, had only one Talent Star in all weapon skills, it was more like madness.

That Max died foolishly. He was supposed to cover the squad from the second line, but upon seeing another monster, he drew his axe and, with a cry of joy, rushed at the creature, in whose jaws he met his end. Alas, Nate himself was busy fighting an ice mother-bear at the time, and the rest of the squad was holding off the already grown cubs, unable to come to his aid in time.

Seeing a signal from Flavius, who was bringing up the rear of their group, Nate nodded and turned toward the exit from the gorge, already showing through the veil of snow...

The end of the ninth volume.

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