How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 681: Frozen North Interlude

"As per your command, the western and eastern borders are fully sealed off. Deliveries from Count Dila and Viscount Belom continue to flow in smoothly, guarded by our elite Heavenly Knights. Surveillance on the central ridge remains uninterrupted. Right now, all operations are aligning with our projections, Your Grace."

Within the well-illuminated chamber, young knight Lisel maintained a straight, steady stance.

He kept one hand clasped at his rear, while the other gripped a tidy stack of documents, their borders precisely squared—mirroring the rigorous training ingrained in him from the moment of his vow.

"Following your directives," Lisel went on, "we sought Count Roverick’s aid on the central field surges. Still, as his army shrinks bit by bit, he refuses to deploy more soldiers. With his return from the academy imminent, renewing the appeal could be wise—even if just for show."

"I understand..."

Grand Duke Luther Heavens responded with a steady, impartial voice.

He stayed turned away from Lisel.

Rather, he positioned himself in front of the grand office panes, fingers interlocked behind him while staring at the icy wilderness stretching outside the city's barriers.

Faint glow poured over the sleek flooring, outlining his imposing form like a metal-forged monument.

"Since the monster surges are starting to fade due to our deployment," Lisel noted further, "our core strategies should launch soon, Your Grace."

"Carry on as you deem appropriate," Luther instructed following a short delay. "Stay vigilant, though. Whenever feasible... take one of them captive alive."

Lisel’s frame tensed just a touch.

"Affirmative, Your Grace."

"One additional directive."

Luther’s words halted him right before he pivoted.

"Disregard the central plains and mountains. No monster surges will emerge there."

For the briefest instant, Lisel paused. A spark of intrigue flashed over his face—fleetingly—yet it faded swiftly. Faith surpassed any doubts.

"Certainly, Your Grace."

Offering a courteous nod, Lisel spun around and departed the room, the sturdy portals shutting gently in his wake.

Solitary now, the Grand Duke held his position.

His blood-red gaze cut beyond the panes, beyond the urban sprawl, beyond the chilled meadows, fixing on the far-off skyline—on an element known solely to him.

....

[Mid-Tier Ice Magic]

[Frost Explosion]

Snow lifted her pale staff, its gleam softly pulsing with the rush of mana coursing inside.

Pristine, flawless chill amassed at the end—white energy gathering, tightening, until it formed a radiant sphere.

The chill in her vicinity plunged abruptly, the atmosphere wailing as it solidified.

The sphere launched ahead like a plummeting comet.

BOOOOM—!!!

It erupted in a whirlwind of dazzling white.

Icy blasts surged outward, hurling flecks of frost and solidified vapor everywhere.

The earth split open, swiftly encased in sheets of crystalline ice.

"Guaghhh—!"

"Raghhhck—!!!"

The beasts trapped in the eruption—beings forged from chill and ice—lacked any defense. Snow’s spell wasn’t mere coldness.

It was total.

Even the tiniest bits of her incantation adhered to them, piercing inward, solidifying their essences from within.

Appendages halted in motion. Cries choked off in their mouths as forms became ghostly ice figures.

Snow observed with an impassive, somewhat remote look.

Soon after, sun rays brushed the iced shapes.

Fractures webbed out.

Then—gently, soundlessly—they crumbled.

The beasts melted into swirling pale vapor, dispersing into the glacial breeze as if they’d never been.

"Your spellwork has ascended to new heights," Riley observed evenly.

While talking, the foe he’d engaged toppled at his rear—its skull neatly detached from the torso.

For Riley, the beasts scarcely sensed their end.

In one heartbeat they lived; in the next, their throats vanished, sliced with flawless accuracy.

"Indeed..."

Snow answered gently.

She dropped her staff and eyed it, sensing the mana stream inside her.

The feeling grew sharper—thicker, cleaner, more attuned.

She’d sensed the shift earlier, verified it alongside Seo, but living it confirmed the truth.

Her connection had intensified.

Her mana’s essence had elevated.

And she grasped the reason—or some of it.

That vision.

The clash with the fiend.

That alternate self amid ice and devastation, commanding might that rang both known and alarming.

Snow clenched her hold on the staff.

Answers eluded her still. Just pieces. Just remnants.

Though the might she now wielded was solid, palpable... the doubt linked to it weighed oddly on her heart.

Naturally, such sudden core advancement was a massive boon.

Any sorceress would deem it fortune.

But power gained without toil or reason bred wariness.

It proved a valued prize—without question—but a troubling one too.

Snow sensed it plainly: the alteration ran profound.

It surpassed skill honing or steady progress from practice.

A buried facet of her being had stirred.

And her sole hints were the scattered recollections from that vision.

The iced fortress.

Its lofty peaks burned into her thoughts with stark vividness, not as viewed scenery, but as etched recall.

As if it had lingered eternally, dormant in her spirit.

Occasionally, she nearly felt its pulse.

A subtle draw nagged at her core when she dwelled on the north—no, beyond that, something exact.

The labyrinth.

Their current destination.

Be it this strength or the vision’s essence, everything beckoned her onward.

That insight alone disturbed her beyond the might.

When Riley first proposed the northern labyrinth, doubt had flared at once.

Had he not mentioned it, she was sure she’d have proposed it herself—or ventured solo in silence.

The alignment felt too pointed.

She’d questioned him outright, probing if he held knowledge of her altered form.

His reply rang annoyingly truthful.

He lacked insight.

Yet... it seemed he grasped fragments.

Not the origin, maybe, but the path.

With Riley, boundaries always hazed.

She understood him enough to know that true insistence—trapping him, exacting replies—would draw out words.

She could extract honesty if desired.

Yet oddly...

She refrained.

From her depths, a soft murmur countered her mind.

This path demands your solo confrontation.

Not from arrogance.

Not from dread.

But since the peril in the north’s icy voids bound solely to her.

As their trek pressed on, Riley eyed Snow a short distance in front.

Her stride held firm, relaxed, but each step brimmed with keen alertness—as though immersed in reflection yet primed for instant action.

It lacked the dreamy absorption of a thinker or the casual watch of a veteran explorer.

It was the poise of one teetering on an unchangeable brink.

Riley had foreseen her skills surpassing his prior forecasts.

After all, he keenly recognized Evelyn’s covert maneuvers—or rather, her reshaping of his surroundings sans permission.

Guaranteeing that each partner, each vital player in his destiny, possessed resilience for the trials ahead.

Snow fit that mold.

Even so, awareness didn’t quell his discomfort.

Evelyn’s meddling extent gnawed at him.

And crucially... the method?

Bearing most of his discarded recollections, shards of fallen realms, the chance stood evident.

Snow drawing strength from her parallel self—from a shattered, divergent era—wasn’t just possible; it loomed eerily probable.

A Snow who’d traversed this route before.

One who might have faltered... or endured to bequeath a legacy.

Does this echo my own ordeal...?

The notion hung.

But closer scrutiny revealed contrasts.

Snow’s advance struck more straightforward than his.

His test wove tricks, limits, and slow emergence; hers hit sudden—nearly imposed.

As though reality had ceased patience for her.

That fact bred Riley’s wariness.

Still... this shift rang positive, beyond doubt.

In several respects.

A mightier Snow boosted survival chances.

Stronger chances curbed chaotic twists.

Yet, for all rational grounds, unease persisted about her solo trial.

He believed in her prowess.

But faith didn’t dispel worry.

Should crisis strike—if mishaps arose—he’d intervene instantly.

Silently.

Firmly.

Regardless of shattered norms.

For the present, he trailed her guidance.

Side by side, they felled obstructing beasts, delving further into the glacial terrain.

Fights stayed short, precise, nearly routine.

And per advance, the atmosphere’s weight intensified.

Arrival neared swiftly.

The labyrinth loomed.

...

At the same time, within the academy—

Riley’s quarters felt unusually still.

Rose fixed on the paper clutched in her grasp for an extended beat before gradually crushing it into a compact wad.

"Hey—what’s that about?!"

Alice cried out next to her, springing halfway off her seat in shock.

"I have no use for it," Rose stated evenly, her voice detached to near apathy.

"But—it’s your debut interview, remember!"

Alice objected, grabbing another page from the table and flourishing it with flair.

"Practice is essential! Confidence or not, jitters could hit—though probably not for you, Rose—but anyway!"

She paused for air, then rushed ahead.

"Riley tasked me with coaching you all on simple PR ahead of the interview. This isn’t minor—it’ll air academy-wide!"

"PR?" Rose queried, cocking her head a bit.

"Public relations,"

Alice declared with pride.

"Or... close enough. Essentially, winning over audiences, shaping the story, picking words wisely and avoiding pitfalls." She chuckled softly. "Snow urged me to watch it more closely too."

"Hmm..." Rose hummed. "I already know what to reveal—and what to withhold."

Her eyes strayed momentarily to the pane.

Hidden musings shadowed her serene facade.

Indeed, she’d crafted a statement ready.

One beyond academy bounds.

A disclosure so explosive it would surge through elite societies, power groups, and rumor mills.

But she held it close.

On the adjacent cot, Seo lounged back, volume splayed in her lap.

Silent, yet her gaze lifted fleetingly from the text, focus subtly honing.

Then—

Creak.

The entrance swung open hastily.

Yui, Riley’s dedicated chamber servant, entered.

Her bearing stayed poised as ever, though her face showed evident distress.

"Young Lady Rose..."

Rose whipped around at once. "What’s wrong, Yui?"

"An pressing issue demands your focus."

Yui pressed her palms, tone hushed yet firm.

"Your family’s steward, Roberto, insists on immediate discussion."

A beat.

"...It seems an event concerns your father."

Quiet enveloped the space.

"...His Grace, Duke Raymond."

With that, Rose’s stare hardened in a flash.

The easy poise evaporated—swapped for icy intent.

"What occurred?"