How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 699: Frozen Trials 10

Time slipped by in silence.

Weeks followed those days.

Months merged seamlessly from the weeks.

Winter seasons arrived and departed, yet the chill in this region lingered persistently.

And in that manner—

Three years had vanished.

Celestine had reached thirteen years old.

Her height had increased, her build more elegant.

The innocent roundness of her youth had gradually diminished, giving way to a more defined edge.

Her appearance had matured into an effortless serene allure.

Silver locks that gleamed like frozen dew.

Gaze carrying a serene profundity beyond her years.

Even peers of her age found themselves drawn to her.

They attempted to avoid gazing too long.

A few murmured softly.

Others averted their eyes hastily if she turned toward them.

Admiration lingered in the air.

Yet so did trepidation.

Trepidation toward her.

Trepidation toward her mother.

The pair remained... apart.

Secluded.

Deprived of the everyday affection other households enjoyed.

By this point, Snow had completely adapted to this existence.

If anyone examined her recollections, her customs, her responses—

They would recognize Celestine.

Not Snow.

Not the individual from a distant realm.

Not the pupil from Lumen Academy.

Simply Celestine.

Nevertheless—

"Looking beautiful as usual~"

She whispered gently to her reflection, positioned in front of the room's mirror.

The image before her donned a tidy white gown topped with a white jacket.

Crisp outlines.

Uncomplicated style.

Matched with white footwear and a gentle white wrap draped softly around her neck.

It bore a striking resemblance to her old Lumen Academy attire.

Not precisely identical.

Yet sufficiently alike.

She lifted her hand, delicately tweaking the wrap, flattening it smoothly.

This choice was intentional.

Beyond the desire to appear polished—since she truly enjoyed maintaining a neat look—this habit fulfilled a deeper role.

It anchored her.

A single look in the mirror clad this way, and memories of Snow resurfaced.

Snow—the young woman who once roamed Lumen Academy's corridors.

It was vital she retained that awareness and didn't completely merge into this persona.

For the third trial was already molding her in subtle, unforeseen manners.

Caution was essential.

Far too many enigmas surrounded the trial remained unresolved.

Initially, she expected it to disclose its intent straightforwardly—much like the second trial.

During that phase, despite confinement to the home and nearby hamlet, patterns had emerged.

Hints concealed within dialogues.

Sentimental prompts strategically set to steer her choices.

This instance?

No clear signs.

Her territory remained confined once more—to the dwelling, the settlement, the patterns of everyday existence.

However, beyond faint alterations in others' attitudes toward her... the trial had remained subdued.

And without her even noticing—

Three years had elapsed.

Snow realized this deviated from the norm.

Trials weren't meant to extend this far without clashes or disclosures.

Yet time operated uniquely in such parallel realms. She was well aware of that.

At minimum, her actual form posed no concern.

Nor the duration elapsed in the outer world.

A few years here could mean days... maybe even hours... back there.

Extended trials held no novelty for her.

She had previously withstood a nightmarish ordeal of similar length—one compelling her to witness Riley's abduction by her sibling so brazenly.

Grinning. Chuckling.

As though Snow were invisible.

That vision had stretched across what seemed like years too.

Relative to that agony, embracing a fairly cozy existence as a hamlet lass hardly qualified as torment.

Yet ease harbored peril.

For ease prompted oblivion.

Snow's digits clenched subtly at her side.

’I need to finish this.’

She refused to let this persist indefinitely.

’Riley must be really worried...’

That mere idea constricted her heart.

No matter how accustomed she had become to embodying Celestine...

She recognized the impossibility of lingering here further.

Crackle—!

Resembling ice straining beneath force.

A piercing, expanding chill ignited within her torso.

Her breathing faltered.

Upon exhaling, a denser-than-normal pale vapor escaped her mouth.

Instinctively, she pressed her palm to her chest—

And icy crystals trailed across her fingertips.

Fine lattices emerging on her flesh.

This occurrence wasn't unfamiliar.

It had intensified in frequency recently.

That urgency to accelerate stemmed from this too.

Because inexplicably—

Celestine's form struggled to endure.

Over these three years, her aptitude for ice magic had ballooned to extraordinary levels. Seamless. Innate. Immense.

But her corporeal shell?

It persisted as that of a thirteen-year-old maiden.

Mortal.

Vulnerable.

The force within her advanced swifter than the frame designed to hold it.

And whenever that chill swelled in her torso—

It resembled an entity attempting escape.

Snow gradually withdrew her palm, observing the ice dissolve back into her dermis.

Riley had once assured her—

’The cold will always be your ally.’

At that moment, she accepted it unquestioningly.

But presently... simplicity evaded it.

The recent chill surging in her chest conveyed no companionship.

It suggested a force probing its confines.

Snow emitted a faint laugh at the twist of fate, tilting her head slightly.

"Guess you didn’t mean it like this..."

Even so, she grinned.

No terror marked her expression. Merely steadfast determination.

Content with her reflections, she pivoted and exited her chamber, her white wrap fluttering lightly in her wake.

The timber flooring groaned faintly beneath her footfalls as she navigated the home and emerged through the rear entrance.

Beyond the dwelling lay a vast expanse.

Infinite blankness.

Snow upon snow.

The terrain irregular and rigidly frozen, breezes gliding softly over it in gentle undulations.

The overhead sky appeared wan, nearly devoid of hue.

A commonplace view for this northern settlement.

But amid that infinite blankness—

Greenery thrived.

A segment of vitality out of place.

Grasses.

Short bushes.

Fragile blooms oscillating subtly in atmosphere that ought to have eradicated them.

The freeze halted abruptly at its perimeter, as if an unseen barrier stood guard.

Should any local behold it distinctly, astonishment would grip them.

Such a garden—particularly in an isolated northern hamlet where vegetation scarcely endured the cycle—was virtually unattainable.

’I guess being feared has its own benefits...’

Snow pondered serenely.

The locals maintained distance from her and her mother.

Murmurs trailed after them.

Entrances shut softly as they passed.

Trepidation formed a barrier.

No soul ventured behind her home driven by inquisitiveness.

And none risked vandalizing what might link to "witchcraft."

Rather, they probably persuaded themselves to avert deeper scrutiny.

Snow held no objection.

She favored that arrangement.

Approaching the garden's fringe, she elevated her hand deliberately.

Slender, unseen threads flickered subtly in the atmosphere as her mana contacted the enclosing shield around the terrain.

Straight, exact formations materialized momentarily—organized arcane rings superimposed.

FOOOSHHH—

Azure-tinged white mana emanated from her hand, extending mildly over the garden akin to a regulated surge.

The atmosphere altered.

The freeze encircling the limit withdrew an additional inch.

The earth below warmed— not scorching, merely equilibrated.

Pleased, Snow inclined her head affirmatively.

This formed part of her everyday tasks.

Term it upkeep.

Daily, she honed the spellwork.

Calibrated the warmth.

Diversion of frosty gusts.

Sifting of dampness.

By expelling and rerouting the chill encircling this land segment, she had forged a provisional haven for flora unfit for this continental zone.

Southern blossoms.

Greenery needing mild radiance.

Even a minor shoot that typically couldn't withstand northern chills.

"Hmm~ good. You guys are growing well."

Snow bent down a bit, trailing her fingers tenderly across a foliage.

The flora responded subtly to her contact—not icing, not withdrawing. Simply curving gently, as though recognizing her.

Nurturing this garden ranked among the scant activities that alleviated her tedium.

Three years marked an extended period to portray a subdued hamlet maiden.

Sufficiently long for habits to turn oppressive.

She refrained from honing her sorcery excessively. Exceeding bounds carried repercussions nowadays.

That crackling chill in her chest evidenced it.

But neglecting this garden?

Impossible for her.

It demanded finesse.

Precisely equilibrated.

A single erroneous shift in climate and all within would perish by dawn.

And... she cherished it.

It evoked her capacity to foster, beyond mere congelation.

Regarding her state—

Disclosing to her mother was out of bounds.

Utterly.

Her mother already observed her intently.

Any peculiar indication would merely heighten her anxiety... or worse, confine her further.

Snow rose gradually.

Her mother wouldn't return until late afternoon this day.

Granting her a window of opportunity.

The dilemma lay in—how to employ it?

Uncovering hints to conclude the trial would prove optimal.

But practically?

The home held no undiscovered elements.

She had scrutinized every nook, probed every exchange, monitored every conduct over the prior three years.

Had a concealed catalyst existed within those confines, she would have uncovered it already.

Venturing solo to the village center was equally unfeasible.

The prior attempt—feigning mere interest—had been detected by her mother nearly at once.

What ensued was a grueling hour of reprimands.

It had drained her sufficiently to deter repetition.

"...Should I just practice my magic for the day?"

She voiced the notion softly.

Though merely thirteen, her mastery over advanced ice spells was already remarkable.

Naturally, she minimized magic employment due to her plight.

But paradoxically—

Unleashing potent incantations in a rush occasionally brought solace.

Like venting a seal.

Retaining frigid mana within her frame proved taxing. It amassed strain.

Permitting it to erupt in a managed outburst left her feeling unburdened subsequently.

Her mother remained oblivious to her sorcery's progress.

Thus, practice necessitated a remote locale.

The adjacent woods sufficed.

Not overly distant.

Sufficiently near the unseen limit barring further travel.

She had verified its bounds innumerable times.

Concluding no true risk involved, Snow affirmed with a nod.

"Forest it is."

After a final survey of the garden, she rotated and proceeded toward the woodland edge, white boots sinking gently into new-fallen snow.

The chilly breeze grazed her wrap as if greeting her anew.

If solutions eluded her this day—

At least she could evade the sensation of captivity.