How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 682: Frost Queen

People often picture a dungeon as a solitary tear in the fabric of space—

a sharp fissure in existence that opens a portal to a dangerous, alien realm.

Such places are called Crack Dungeons, setting them apart from all other types.

In contrast to Plain Dungeons, born naturally in the world with reliable inner laws, or Bounded Field Dungeons, confined by man-made seals and tightly controlled, crack dungeons remain inherently volatile.

They act as scars on the world.

Chaotic. Fierce.

The majority of dungeon breaks stem from these fissures.

Mana gathers inside the hidden realm, creating unyielding tension.

Should the inner equilibrium shatter—or if the mana concentration overwhelms the enclosing space—the dungeon bursts wider, unleashing beasts into the outer world like water surging from a broken barrier.

Whole cities have crumbled under these catastrophes.

For this reason, a detected crack dungeon seldom goes ignored.

Knight orders, adventurer guilds, arcane towers, and occasionally the Church itself rally to conquer it—driven by rewards, materials, or sheer necessity to avert calamity.

When a dungeon fissure settles, the nearby atmosphere twists.

Mana crackles, condenses, and warps, generating a dense weight that grips the ground like an unseen tempest.

Based on the dungeon’s level, the intense mana concentration by the entrance might drop even a seasoned knight to the ground, no magic required.

Inhaling turns labored.

Actions grow ponderous.

Minds weigh down.

"We’re getting close."

Snow gave a quiet nod at Riley’s statement.

Their trip had seemed oddly mixed—endless, but passing in a flash.

Moments lost clarity amid endless surges of foes that lunged to halt their advance.

Beasts born of ice and tainted mana assaulted without pause, pulled toward them by pure urge.

The bulk fell swiftly to their strikes.

Though now and then, a tougher foe emerged.

Ice behemoths that rumbled the earth with every stride.

Ice wyrms that swooped from the dull heavens in coils of biting gale.

These endured just a bit more—trapped in unyielding frost or sliced open before fleeing.

Now, the very atmosphere hung amiss.

Snow eased her pace.

Far off, a huge radiance cut through the snowstorm veil—a bizarre shine spilling faint azure and silver across the heavens.

The mana in that spot writhed openly, twisting and coiling inward.

Snow squinted her gaze.

"...That’s the one,"

Riley had already shared that the dungeon’s projected rank hit SSS.

Still, Snow hadn’t anticipated such intensity.

The overpowering aura ahead loomed vast—crushing in a manner that surpassed mere ranks or labels.

She’d felt profound mana strains in the past, spots where the air bore down on flesh and squeezed the chest, yet this stood apart.

Such strains always carried a crafted edge—like a deliberate weight imposed from outside.

But this...

This rang true.

As though the entire world had thickened.

Not akin to hands forcing her shoulders low, but as if the pull of gravity had subtly grown, exacting greater toil per stride.

Her breaths even seemed richer, each pull of air laden with mana nearly palpable on the tongue.

"Feeling anxious?"

Riley inquired, eyeing Snow at his side.

She halted briefly, assessing herself.

"I won’t deny it," she confessed plainly. "But... somehow, I don’t sense impending defeat."

Riley grimaced a touch.

"Don’t jinx it, please..."

"Jinx?" Snow cocked her head.

"Just... minor nonsense," he dismissed hastily. "Forget I said it."

"Hmm..."

Snow observed his response for an instant, intrigue sparking in her eyes, but she dropped it. Then, in a gentler tone, she continued,

"One reason I’m not too worried is that you’re right here with me, you know."

Riley sensed a subtle ease from her remark—but wariness tagged along.

Reliance brought solace.

Overconfidence invited peril.

"Even with me nearby," he stated steadily, "stay cautious once we enter. I may only assist from the threshold."

"I will," Snow answered promptly.

Her smile emerged—soft, steady, comforting.

Yet, for motives Riley couldn’t quite grasp, a slender strand of unease rooted in his core.

After all, Snow’s present condition owed partly... to Evelyn.

He lacked knowledge of her meddling’s extent, or how much of Snow’s strength drew from remnants of a shattered realm.

The challenges lurking in the dungeon stayed unknown.

Even so...

If Evelyn played a role, Riley could at least rely on this.

No grave peril would greet Snow past that portal.

After mulling a bit more, Riley finally voiced his thought.

"By the way, Snow... you sure we shouldn’t have paid respects to the grand duke before arriving?" he questioned. "We might’ve met the count too, since he’s heading back already."

Snow tempered her gait a fraction.

"We did notify Count Roverick already," she responded, voice reflective, "but the grand duke might’ve reacted otherwise—even with you accompanying me, Riley."

She wavered, then let out a light sigh.

"I neglected to mention, but... my father, His Majesty the Emperor, wasn’t thrilled when I told him we’d venture north to tackle the dungeon."

Riley arched a brow yet held his tongue, urging her on.

"Plus," Snow went on, "I aimed to resolve this dungeon swiftly. The harm it’s inflicted on the northern lands can’t be overlooked anymore—particularly in Count Roverick’s territory."

Riley breathed out softly.

He’d figured the grand duke would offer quiet endorsement, thanks to Snow.

But reflecting now, drawing him in would just bind their actions—protocols, supervision, holdups.

Authority forever bore strings.

"Sadly, I’m pretty sure the duke knows we’re present." Riley noted.

Snow shot him a look.

"How so?"

"A figure of his caliber can detect auras from hundreds of kilometers if inclined,"

he explained evenly.

"Identifying distinct mana traces falls easily within his... outrageous scope."

His eyes flicked toward Riley momentarily.

"And your mana trace stands out sharply. Spotting it would pose no challenge for him."

Snow shook her head gently.

"Then he’s aware."

Snow appeared uneasy briefly—but then eased up.

"Since he hasn’t stepped in..." she whispered, "...I suppose he’s quietly permitting us?"

"I wouldn’t label it approval," Riley countered. "More like he’s opting to overlook us as best he can."

He halted, gaze sharpening on the far-off dungeon shimmer.

"He likely sees we’re not here for games."

"A minor boon," Snow remarked with a subtle grin. "Anyway, it benefits us both regardless."

They handle the dungeon head-on.

He sidesteps pointless political ties.

.....

Within the chilled caves and ice-shrouded corridors of the glacial fortress, utter quiet dominated.

At its core, on a seat hewn from timeless frost, lounged a woman of stunning allure.

She donned a spotless white gown topped by a coordinating cloak, its material drifting like new powder.

Her flawless pale skin glowed softly in the chill gleam of the crystal barriers, and as her eyes parted—if just for a second—they sparkled like myriad flakes in lunar glow. Her hair, endless and pure, matched winter’s hue.

One slender hand propped her face as if in light slumber.

But the surrounding air pressed heavily—domineering—charged with a command that required no words.

For a flash, in her partly shut stare, an image surfaced.

A young woman.

Silver locks. Known mana. An aura stirring a buried chord in her iced essence.

The vision wavered—

And faded.

The Frost Queen.

Unlike the hideous and twisted entities filling her realm, unlike the brutal forms of ice titans, frost wyrms, and twisted ice-spawn, she appeared utterly... mortal.

And that rendered her infinitely more fearsome.

A sound shattered the hush.

"My queen..."

Beside her loomed an armored ice reptilian, sheathed in polished white plating, stance stiff, voice even but devout.

Ice motifs snaked over his hide as he uttered.

"A danger has surfaced," he pressed on. "In the central fields. It heads straight for the dungeon."

He held back, selecting terms with care.

"With our forces scattered at present, mounting a swift, unified counter to this oddity demands your sanction. The ice titan leader seeks clearance to—"

"Let them pass."

The reply came mild.

"Yes—Yes, Your Majesty, I’ll relay...." the reptilian answered on reflex, pivoting to obey—then halting abruptly.

"...Let them pass?"

"...Yes," the queen confirmed once more, her tone a mere murmur, yet echoing clearly in the hall.

"But Your Majesty," he ventured warily, "as reported, these figures are outliers. Their mana marks match no familiar group or type. Permitting their unhindered approach—"

"It’s alright."

Her hand adjusted faintly against her face.

"Unleash every wave you can muster," she went on. "Allow the beasts to clash with them unbound."

A beat.

"And direct their attention to the girl."

The ice reptilian—Las—shivered from something beyond the freeze.

"...As you command, Your Majesty," he uttered finally, inclining low.

He grasped not her purpose.

He couldn’t.

Yet submission wasn’t optional—it was innate.

As he departed the hall, the enormous ice portals clanging closed after, a thought hit him.

He hadn’t detailed the outliers’ identity.

Nor their count.

Or if they were male or female.

But the queen had discerned.

Flawlessly.

Las gulped, wonder and piety swelling in his heart.

The Frost Queen is truly all-seeing...

With that insight taking hold, his allegiance swelled into near-reverence.

Something akin to adoration.

Left solitary again on her iced seat, the queen’s mouth lifted just a fraction—

as the far-off draw of her heir approached.