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...Provided that the forces of humanity would even be able to last that long, of course.

There was a good chance that they wouldn't, but there was also a good chance that they would.

The situation in East Antarctica was much better than it had been in the Antarctic Center. In fact, it was more or less exactly what the government had hoped for - after the tumultuous first phase of the operation, all the population had been relocated to a number of siege capitals, the soldiers had hunkered down, and people were being slowly carried across the ocean to the other Quadrants.

That process would last until the end of the year, at least.

There were three field armies of the First Evacuation Army currently operating in East Antarctica - which was exactly three times more than the single one that had been sent to the Antarctic Center. There were also two Saints there, one of the government's own and the emissary of the great clan Song. Once Saint Tyris recovered from her wounds, there would be three.

The Second Army was on its way, as well. They would be making landfall in just a few days, and once that happened, the human forces on the continent would be incredibly bolstered. The Second Army was supposed to be composed of twice as many mundane soldiers, Awakened, and Masters as the First Army had been.

Close to five thousand Awakened had died in the Antarctic Center... but by the end of August, there would be sixty thousand of them defending East Antarctica. Best of all, there was no Winter Beast to suppress all forms of long-range communications there, allowing the army to operate as the well-oiled machine it was supposed to be.

That had to be enough to withstand the onslaught of the Chain of Nightmares for five more months. By then, most of the population would hopefully be evacuated... and if not, there was the winter solstice.

With how rampantly the Spell had been spreading in the Southern Quadrant, the number of Awakened was bound to double, or even triple after the solstice. All the Sleepers created by the Chain of Nightmares would receive the chance to come into their full power.

So, although the forces arrayed against the evacuation effort would continue to grow more dire as time went on, the forces of humanity would swiftly increase, too.

There was a chance.

However... Sunny knew that there was one unpredictable part of the equation that could ruin everything.

The great clans.

Nephis had told him that the Southern Campaign was a perfect battlefield for them to wage their war... and so, there was a large possibility that Song and Valor would clash in East Antarctica, complicating the already dreadful situation.

There was no sense or reason in their insane feud, at least none that Sunny and Neph could see. And yet, the threat posed by the war of great clans was very real.

As Sunny looked at the ocean, his eyes glinted with cold, wrathful light.

'Those bastards...'

He had not even noticed when his hands turned into fists.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Sunny turned slightly and looked at Jet. She had sat up and was now wiping the Nightmare Creature's blood off her face, looking slightly less corpsely... but only slightly. She was still a far cry from the fearsome Soul Reaper he knew.

Sunny lingered for a moment, then said evenly:

Just thinking about the future."

Jet studied him for a bit.

"Really? Because you look like you're about to dive back into the water, this time to butcher a few abominations just for fun."

She sighed, then said wistfully:

"Why did you throw that one off the raft, anyway? We didn't even retrieve the soul shards."

Sunny scoffed.

"What do we need soul shards for? You can't use them, and neither can I. That thing, meanwhile, was flooding the whole place with its rotten blood. We don't even have a rag to wipe it off."

Indeed, soul shards were useless for both of them. Sunny needed shadow fragments, which could only be received by slaying enemies of equal or higher Rank, while Soul Reaper could only replenish her essence and strengthen her core by killing living things.

In the outside world, a single soul shard was worth a hefty sum of credits, but here on the raft, Sunny would have given a hundred of them just for a mop.

'Well... maybe not a hundred.'

Sunny sighed, then returned to his chair and sat down.

He was growing hungry, too...

Jet stood up, shakily walked out of the puddle of blood, and lowered herself to the alloy surface of the raft. Her eyes had regained a hint of their usual iciness.

She remained silent for a bit, then said hoarsely:

"You've been in a dismal mood this whole time."

Sunny looked at her with amusement.

Not only was he amused by the fact that she had apparently had enough presence of mind to pay attention to his moods, with all that crawling around and trying to kill him, but the statement itself was more than a little redundant.

How else was he supposed to feel after what had happened in Falcon Scott? Millions of people had died. The members of his cohort had died. And even before that... the First Irregular Company had been all but wiped out. Considering everything, Sunny thought that he had handled himself pretty well in the past week.

He smiled darkly.

"Yeah? And why do you think that is?"

Jet sighed, then looked away.

"Does it matter what I think? I understand... believe me, I do. In fact, I might just understand it better than you. But, Sunny, do you want me to be honest?"

He stared at her silently, then shrugged.

"I guess."

Usually, statements like this were followed by something unpleasant.

She looked at the dark waves and shook her head.

"I think that you have maybe forgotten who you are, and where you came from. I am only saying it because I went through the same thing, many years ago. When I left the outskirts, I was tempted to forget the truth of things, too. And I did... for a little while. But the world has a way of reminding you what it really is, and what you should expect from it. Sunny... don't grow soft. You, of all people, should know better."

Sunny looked at her, his face unmoving. After a few moments, he shook his head.

"We are not in the outskirts anymore. And we are not the same people anymore."

A pale grin slowly appeared on Soul Reaper's lips.

"...That is true, too."

She lied down and stared at the sky, silent.

After a while, though, Jet said:

"Maybe you are right. Maybe people like us have to change, too... inflexible things are the most brittle, after all. But look around. With how things are going, the whole world just might end up like the outskirts soon. What are we supposed to do then?"

Sunny laughed.

"I'm the last person you should be asking for advice. What are we supposed to do? I have no idea. I don't even know what we are supposed to do tomorrow, let alone in the vague future. Let's just keep things simple. Today, we need to survive. Tomorrow, too. After that... we'll see. It would already be nice if we get the privilege of having a choice in the matter."

Jet turned her head and looked at him seriously. Then, she said in a solemn tone:

"I can't survive, though. I'm already dead."

They stared at each other silently for a few moments, then both laughed.

The raft continued to drift on the cold waves. From time to time, Saint would raise her bow and send a black arrow into the dark water. Every time she did, the Spell would whisper into Sunny's ear, announcing a kill. Other times, he would have to dive into the ocean himself and help her deal with the attacking abominations.

Shadow fragments slowly trickled into his soul.

The next day, Sunny procured another Nightmare Creature for Jet to kill. And the day after that, one more.

On the third day, her crow returned from its scouting trip much sooner than usual, announcing that it had seen land. Not long after that, they saw a dark line on the horizon.

On the fourth day, the raft finally reached the inhospitable shore, and the two of them set foot on solid ground again.

East Antarctica welcomed them with cold winds, dim twilight, and the familiar call of the whispering Nightmare Gates."