It was simply not possible for mortals to survive in the North.
The very air brimmed with volatile energy—concentrated Prana and raw Aura that churned constantly like an unseen storm. Even breathing for a few minutes could cause a mortal to collapse, afflicted by Prana Exhaustion or overwhelmed by Aura Fever. Their bodies just weren't built to handle such density.
Because of this, even newborns in the Northern Territories were at least at the Novice Level from birth. The environment itself tempered them, forcing early evolution or death.
Now, under the faint, cold sun, lines of survivors moved slowly through the ruined port of Verga City. These were not common mortals— they were Immortal Practitioners, warriors, mages and their children. And yet, in this moment, they walked like defeated mortals: hunched, weary, and burdened by sorrow.
Their eyes were dull. Their robes were tattered. Their spirits— normally blazing with pride— hung low.
