It had only been five minutes since the thousands of chosen youths had been unceremoniously dumped into the strange desert world through the rift.
And yet the silence that followed was so intense, so all-consuming, that it might as well have been five hours.
It wasn't a peaceful, relaxing silence, like the hush of snow or a quiet evening. No, this was a choking, oppressive silence.
The kind that made your heartbeat feel too loud in your chest. That made every single step echo a little too sharply in your ears.
Despite the sheer number of people present—thousands, in fact—you couldn't even hear the shuffle of another person unless they were practically right next to you!
The reason for this eerie quiet was the overwhelming presence of the brown mist.
It wasn't just foggy—it was like someone had taken all the dust in the world, mixed it with steam from a boiling swamp, and then cranked it up to maximum thickness.
