How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 689: Frozen Trials 3
Previously on How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game...
From Snow's mana, frost and ice spread outward, causing the igloo's inside to glow with a soft blue radiance.
The atmosphere quivered—not fiercely, but with a subtle acknowledgment.
Her determined blue eyes sparkled.
The uncertainty that had lingered earlier was now erased.
Gradually, Snow stood up.
Every motion remained firm and intentional.
She no longer appeared as one merely enduring the tempest.
Instead, she seemed to have comprehended it fully.
With no delay, she exited the igloo.
FOOOOSHHH!!!
The blizzard engulfed her right away.
Winds howled like a wild creature, snow whipping her form with sharp intensity.
All sight disappeared.
The surroundings reverted to a swirling white turmoil.
It proved brutal.
It showed no pity.
It felt overwhelming.
Yet on this occasion—
Snow chose not to shield herself with mana.
She allowed the chill to reach her flesh.
She permitted the gales to rage nearby.
For her response had already formed.
She gradually raised her head and stared into the gale, despite seeing only boundless white.
Her breaths grew even.
Inhale.
Exhale.
The tempest wasn't opposing her.
It lingered in expectation.
".....Stop."
Her tone stayed gentle.
But it held complete command.
The result came at once.
The furious gusts ceased as though cut off abruptly.
The twirling flakes halted mid-air before drifting softly to the ground.
The gloomy, turbulent heavens split open in a broad wave—
And rays of sun poured in.
Dazzling. Comforting. Luminous.
The profound quiet that ensued carried a holy weight.
Under her footwear, the snow started to hiss—not due to warmth, but from harmony.
It vibrated lightly, akin to a devoted follower ready for its ruler's command.
Snow directed her sight downward.
"Guide me."
Sizzle!
The earth replied.
A crisp split raced through the dense snow expanse, charging straight onward.
The snow coverings parted, exposing the firm icy soil below.
The rift kept going, broadening slightly to create a clear route.
A trail forged through yielding.
Snow observed as it formed, a subtle grin appearing on her mouth.
She had gotten it wrong right from the start.
This had nothing to do with withstanding.
The gale wasn't her foe.
The freeze wasn't her barrier.
It belonged to her.
And it always had.
"...I see now."
The route extended ahead into the horizon, free from the engulfing white.
Snow advanced onto it without pause.
She had discovered her solution.
...
In the distance, inside a grand hall carved wholly from timeless ice, a throne rose at its heart—lofty and commanding.
The Frost Queen occupied it.
The crown woven with frost on her brow flickered softly while her glacial stare monitored all events in her territory.
For the shortest instant—
She grinned.
It remained faint. Barely detectable.
Even the servants bowed low before her seat, poised in quiet devotion for instructions, missed it entirely.
"...So, you found the answer."
Her words resonated gently across the chilled chamber.
As the ruler of this land—and the entity whose control over frost established its rules—she had anticipated Snow enduring for several days.
To roam aimlessly.
To fight desperately.
To gradually uncover the veils of misconception before seizing the essence of the ordeal.
But Snow had attained that insight in just hours.
The Frost Queen’s eyes shone with true curiosity.
"To think you would arrive at it so quickly..."
A light puff left her mouth, turning to crystals in the atmosphere before fading away.
"...Perhaps you are more suitable than I anticipated."
The throne chamber quieted again.
Yet in the Queen’s icy stare, eagerness started to emerge.
The moment had come for the next ordeal.
....
Huff...
A thin wisp of vapor rose from Riley’s mouth as he breathed out, the frigid air turning his exhale to ice.
He settled down on a huge chunk of ice he'd cut neatly from the dungeon's barrier, forming it into a rough chair.
The frozen rock creaked softly under his mass.
With a precise flow of mana—and using the shattered rods near the dungeon's gateway, plus fractured wooden massive bats discarded by prior monsters—he built a simple fire in front of him.
The blaze popped defiantly against the crushing chill.
It offered little heat.
Yet it sufficed.
His azure eyes shifted to the farthest parts of the dungeon passage.
The shadows there weighed dense and profound, as if holding layers past simple darkness.
Briefly, his face eased.
Snow’s aura had faded.
He had sensed the change sharply when it occurred—the warp in space, the fade of the world's fabric.
Entrants to the actual trial always got shifted to another place.
An isolated world.
A fabricated area molded by the dungeon ruler's intent.
He understood this well.
Thus, he avoided alarm.
Nevertheless...
Knowing her vanishing was intended didn't fully ease the worry in his heart.
"...You’ll be fine,"
Snow wasn't weak.
She possessed strength—in mind, in magic, and in resolve.
He believed in her.
And still—
His gaze intensified.
"Those guys really aren’t moving, huh...."
The remark slipped out softly.
Though he restrained both his mana and divinity, Riley had achieved the highest level long ago.
His perception remained sharp.
Faint shifts in the dungeon's framework—minor twists in the frost-infused mana streams—revealed all he required.
The Frost Queen’s commanders had assembled.
Every one.
Grouped in one spot further inside the dungeon.
Observing.
Biding time.
But none had acted.
Not once after he and Snow arrived.
That fact alone struck odd.
In the initial storyline—the one he recalled—Snow would have confronted the commanders prior to the real trial.
They served as her guardians.
Her proof of value before the Queen recognized her.
But currently...
Zilch.
No assault.
No blockade.
No confrontation.
Pointing to just one conclusion.
The Frost Queen had commanded them to hold off.
Riley tilted back a bit, his eyes tightening on the flames.
"Is it because I’m here?"
The fire danced.
Should the Queen detect him accurately, she’d realize clashing with him head-on would prove... tricky.
But had she detected him?
He hadn't unleashed any portion of his divinity upon entry.
His mana stayed tightly controlled. His aura toned down to that of a capable—yet ordinary—fighter.
Even so...
This was her lair.
Her realm.
A ruler of her stature could sense ripples in her holdings like touches on flesh.
"...Did you notice me the moment I stepped in?"
The odds weren't slim.
If yes...
Then her commanders' pause wasn't doubt.
It signaled strategy.
"That might not be entirely the case—"
Riley’s words faded during his reflection.
A recollection emerged.
His eyes focused as the elements connected.
Correct.
An element existed that could make the Frost Queen wary.
An item out of place in this dungeon.
An anomaly a domain's overseer couldn't overlook.
The shadowy divinity from the zealots.
The piece he had taken in.
Though he had purified and locked it away, though it no longer surged wildly inside, divinity stayed divinity.
And shadowed divinity—particularly linked to disordered devotion—marked the weave of existence.
"Tsk... was she watching that moment?"
Should she have seen him take it...
From her view, an unidentified top-tier figure had effortlessly consumed tainted divinity in her grounds.
No leader would overlook that.
And this was her territory.
The rules here yielded to her desire.
The frost bore her perception.
The snow relayed tremors like veins on skin.
She had likely spotted it.
"...So that’s why you’re holding back your generals."
Riley bent forward a touch, arms on his thighs as the campfire gleamed in his sight.
Regardless, at least she avoided rash actions.
If she launched a bold strike—if she endangered Snow outright or tried to drive them out—he could counter accordingly.
No full unleashing required.
Merely sufficient.
His face shadowed subtly.
He dared not employ excessive divinity.
Doing so might provide grounds.
And Erebil...
That title alone evoked a gloom grazing his mind.
Should the divide between fate weaken or if divine might seeped too freely into the earthly realm, that primordial force would exploit any fissure.
Riley refused to offer her the tiniest opening to return.
"...I still have a card up my sleeve, but..."
He scanned the dungeon gateway, slightly irritated.
"Where the heck is that cat now?"
Time had passed since he triggered Cheshire’s card.
The call ought to have summoned him without delay.
That enigmatic pest had the talent to show up precisely when desired—or rather, when it maximized the flair.
Yet nothing.
No flashy arrival.
No twisting gateway.
No dramatic salutation.
Riley tsked.
"Don’t tell me you’re ignoring me..."
With Cheshire's nature, it fit.
The feline was capricious.
Unpredictable.
Infuriatingly drawn to drama.
Absent spectators or a fittingly "magical" instant to seize, he'd postpone solely for stylistic reasons.
Riley breathed out.
"He’s probably just waiting to have a grand, exaggerated entrance..."
Likely featuring sparkling gates, warped voids, and a bombastic speech on fortune, doom, and Riley's fortune in his company.
"...Unbelievable."
’I’ll have Alice punish him later.’
That ought to correct him.
...Possibly.
Riley agreed inwardly, content with the planned payback, and turned his eyes back to the blaze.
His stare turned remote, flames mirroring dimly in their core as his mind moved to a far graver issue than icy rulers or wary commanders.
The faith.
The one emerging under his title.
He remained clueless on its origin.
He had never proclaimed.
Never claimed godhood.
Never sought devotees.
Still... it thrived.
Worse—it surpassed mere respect.
The dark divinity piece he claimed came from zealots.
Devout adherents.
Those who warped belief into frenzy.
Even a group of such followers reaching this northern extent signaled one truth.
It wasn't confined.
If they'd infiltrated the northern wilds—isolated, unforgiving, thinly settled—then the creed had likely permeated the whole land.
"...Annoying."
Riley reclined a fraction, gaze sharpening.
He couldn't traverse the full land alone, eradicating every sect rising in his honor.
Even if feasible, it would attract excessive notice.
And notice was what he least wanted amid handling divine shards and primordial entities eyeing gaps.
Thus, his choices narrowed.
One route—
Evelyn.
He could direct her to handle it.
As his duplicate, she held his recollections, his reasoning, his potential for severity.
Quashing an emerging sect fell easily in her grasp.
However...
His features toughened subtly.
She probably knew already.
If the faith had expanded to dispatch zealots north, she couldn't have overlooked it.
Her inaction thus was intentional.
She permitted its expansion.
Watched.
Evaluated.
"...You’re moving on your own again."
Riley didn't mind it.
Actually, he crafted her for self-directed growth.
But such autonomy brought uncertainty.
For the present, he couldn't wholly delegate this—not with stakes tied to his identity and divinity.
Even if her acts served him ultimately.
That narrowed to scant ties left.
The Church.
Or the royals.
His look honed a bit.
The Emperor knew of the abrupt surge of wicked adorers nationwide.
The crown's power had started subtle crackdowns.
That's why the high noble ventured here initially.
If Riley contacted them and presented this as another perilous sect linked to tainted might, their aims would mesh seamlessly.
No full disclosure needed.
Just adequate.
"...Having them wipe out a religion born in my name," he muttered dryly. "How ironic."
Yet it would succeed.
The Empire held influence.
Regarding the Church...
Riley released a slow breath, eyeing embers lift from the fire.
He could directly consult Saintess Emilia on the issue.
With her, compliance would come swiftly.
From obligation.
...And deeper sentiment.
Though Riley grasped only part of that.
Still, the Church differed from the Empire.
Unlike the Emperor—where shared insight and silent reliance prevailed—the Church required precision.
Order.
Admission.
Particularly against wicked adorers.
And this wasn't standard fiendish taint.
That posed the issue.
The sect avoided demonic force.
They wielded divinity.
Bent. Spoiled. Shadowed.
But sacred at core.
Should senior priests probe even a trace of that force, they'd spot the variance.
Demonic mana raged chaotic and alien to holy bands. But this...
This resembled holy power twisted astray.
Sparking inquiries.
Troubling ones.
"Where did it originate?"
"Who is the source?"
"How was it obtained?"
The Church would probe.
They invariably did.
Emilia might not demand from him—her faith in him deep enough for blind acceptance—but the body supporting her wouldn't sit still.
High priests, examiners, artifact experts...
They'd seek truths.
And Riley lacked readiness to provide them.
"With the Emperor, trust already exists,"
he muttered softly.
"With the Church... it’s doctrine first, trust later."
That rendered them no foes.
Merely cumbersome partners.
His musings deepened, weighing realm effects, holy marks, suppression plans—
Then—
A ripple.
A flicker in the breeze.
Faint.
Yet purposeful.
Riley’s eyes focused at once.
His form hazed.
SWIIISHH!!!
In under a heartbeat, he dissolved from the ice block and rematerialized paces distant.
His blade—Valeria—emerged in a fluid sweep, its edge halting inches from a slim throat.
Chilled air shivered near the metal.
"W-Well now... aren’t you quite the aggressive human...."
The tone rang airy. Entertained.
Riley’s face stayed stern.
"Who are you?"
A youthful female stood there—stunning, nearly fragile. Her grin serene, nearly teasing.
But human she wasn't.
Slight bent horns protruded from her brows.
Dim, gleaming scales followed sections of her hide like chilled designs.
And trailing her, a thin tail waved idly in the frosty breeze.
Her palm rose gradually, extended in a sign of truce.
"My name is Anica," she stated with a polite nod. "My queen has ordered me to come and greet you... and guide you inside."
Riley’s eyes tightened faintly.
Despite the steel at her neck, she showed no recoil.
No mana surge.
No guard response.
No dread.
She had gauged their divide.
And embraced it.
Curious.
After a short halt, Riley eased Valeria back into its sheath.
The steel's chime rang quietly as it settled.
Anica retreated a minor step, not from fright—more from decorum.
"Guide me?" Riley echoed steadily.
"Yes."
Her grin widened a touch.
"My queen has granted you an invitation. Be proud, human. You are deemed worthy to step within our queen’s castle."
No scorn laced her words.
Pure formal statement.
Riley regarded her briefly.
"Is that so..." he whispered.
The queen had summoned him within?
That surprised.
Either utmost assurance in her holdings—
Or a bid for talks.
Riley’s sight wandered momentarily to the inner ice passages.