How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 704: A Giant Dream interlude

Upon the white dragon child regaining consciousness, the initial sight greeting her eyes was an unfamiliar ceiling. It featured a pale, wooden construction adorned with rudimentary beams, a stark departure from the jagged, dark stalactites she once deemed home. Within her nest atop the frozen mountain, the roof had strictly consisted of rugged stone and icy formations that flickered faintly amidst the frigid gloom. Yet, this particular ceiling appeared smooth and radiated a soft, warm hue. It exuded an alien yet comforting essence. The young dragon remained still, casting her gaze upward in quiet bewilderment. Then, her instincts surged. Her body grew rigid. "Ugh...!" She endeavored to rise, but the movement proved far too sudden. A piercing pang immediately throbbed behind her eyes, succeeded by a dull ache throughout her abdomen. Overcome by a rush of vertigo, she clutched her head and emitted a soft moan. Her breath quickened. "W-where am I...?" Her hazy vision darted across the surrounding chamber, where every detail felt anomalous: the strange walls, the wooden furnishings, and the plush blankets cradling her body. Never before had the dragon child resided within a human dwelling; to her senses, this strange environment mirrored the peril of the snowy wilds beyond. Her instincts demanded flight, yet her physical form remained too frail to comply. Just then, a voice interjected. "My, my... it seems our visitor has finally awakened." Startled, the young dragon snapped her gaze toward the sound. Entering the room was a human woman carrying a tray; upon it rested a freshly prepared pie, its savory aroma permeating the air. The scent alone caused the dragon child’s stomach to contract. "Are you hungry?" the woman inquired with a gentle smile. "Fufu... you must be. You have slumbered quite soundly for an entire week." The dragon child tightened instantly. She narrowed her eyes, suppressing a low growl within her throat. However, restricted to her polymorphed human guise, the fierce roar of a dragon manifested merely as an infantile whimper. With her puffed cheeks and fragile appearance, she resembled nothing more than a petulant small girl. "...Who are you?" she demanded, her voice dripping with suspicion. The woman appeared amused by this display. Smiling softly, she approached the bed with measured steps to avoid alarming the child. "I am Elea," she replied kindly, depositing the tray onto a nearby table. "Mother to the girl resting beside you." "...Mother?" The dragon child blinked, confusion clouding her expression. She rotated her head slowly, only then noticing the presence of another. Reclining next to her was a slightly older girl with white hair spread across the pillow, her hand loosely entwined with the dragon child’s. Even in slumber, her grip remained tender. The young dragon observed the sleeping girl, her thoughts blank for a heartbeat, until memories surged forward: the frozen forest, the robed figures, the agony, the mockery, the cold collar, and finally, the tempest of ice. Realization dawned, widening her eyes. "...My savior...?" The sleeping girl clutching her hand was the exact individual who had arrived during her darkest hour, freezing the cultists with effortless grace. At her hushed query, Elea chuckled softly. "Fufu... although I assured her you were stable and simply required recovery, she fretted incessantly. She spent most of her time waiting for you, constantly monitoring your fever and the status of the poison within your veins. Honestly, she hardly slept at all." Elea covered her mouth to suppress another giggle. "Fufu~ I take pride in raising such a devoted daughter." The dragon child blinked in astonishment. "Your... the savior’s mother...?" Elea tilted her head. "Savior is quite a heavy term, but I suppose my little Celes performed something heroic in your eyes. Regardless, refrain from overexerting yourself," she advised gently. "You are still in recovery. I shall bring you food momentarily. You would not want to disturb her precious sleep, correct?" The dragon child glanced toward Celestine, who remained in a peaceful, deep slumber, still holding her hand as if guarding her. After a long moment of contemplation, she gave a slow nod. "...Okay." Elea beamed warmly. "By the way, what might your name be, little child?" Her gaze held a knowing shimmer. "Or, perhaps, I should address you as dragonling?" A tremor of alarm ran through the youth. Every instinct told her to flee. Yet, looking into Elea’s serene eyes, the panic ebbed away; there was no malice, no greed, nor hatred—only a quiet, profound empathy. Hesitantly, she mustered an answer. "...I am Anica." Elea’s face brightened. "Anica, how lovely. A truly beautiful name." ... Opening her eyes—the reflection of crystal snowflakes shimmering in her white irises—the Frost Queen sat alone in the silent chamber and returned her teacup to the silver saucer, the porcelain clinking softly. Her cold, distant gaze remained locked upon the floating magical arrays through which she monitored her trial. "She approaches the Absolute..." the Frost Queen murmured, her tone devoid of emotion. While she rarely dwelled on the past, her final trial contained a poignant irony she could not fully ignore. The test confronted those things she had long sought to suppress. Soon, her successor, Snow, would face a pivotal decision—a choice demanding the Absolute rather than hesitation or compromise. For a moment, the Frost Queen pondered her heir’s eventual choice. Would she embrace the truth or vehemently reject it? Then, a subtle, almost imperceptible ghost of a smile touched the Frost Queen's lips. It was a rarity that none within the castle palace had ever glimpsed. She stood slowly, noting that Riley had taken full advantage of her permission to explore the castle grounds without restriction. "What a compact entity..." she mused, recalling the peculiar human. Over her long existence, she had encountered giants, goblins, dragons, and beings regarded as gods by mortals. Yet, none had been quite like Riley. He was a profound anomaly—not merely powerful, but remarkably condensed, like a burning star compressed within a mortal frame. At the time of his arrival, her invitation had been a mere trap; she had intended to measure the depth of his existence and, should he prove uninteresting, destroy him. Looking back, she felt a sliver of relief for not taking such drastic action. Even with her generals in attendance, she was not oblivious enough to underestimate such an enigma. .... "A new dawn shall rise for my kind," Gallan stated, his voice resonant and steady. "Your presence is unnecessary for this transition. Accept my pact, and I shall refrain from interfering in your affairs." Riley regarded him in silence. "What exactly is your objective?" Gallan’s expression remained stoic. "That remains beyond your comprehension, human. Depending on our Queen’s reaction, blood may flow. But rest assured, I have accounted for such a contingency." Riley deliberated for a moment. "...Give me time to consider." Gallan nodded with a slow grace, his massive frame relaxing against the seat. "A wise choice. We shall reconvene at the break of dawn to finalize our path." Following this exchange, Riley exited the Frost Giant’s residence. The frigid corridors of the Ice Castle greeted him as he resumed his silent trek. He had not anticipated such audacity from the chieftain—to speak so candidly of rebellion, especially to one who had recently held an audience with the Frost Queen herself. Then again, Riley mused, his "connection" to the Queen was hardly anything of substance. They were not allies, nor friends, nor even acquaintances; they were merely travelers who had briefly crossed paths. Yet, the possibility remained: had he chosen to, Riley could have easily unmasked Gallan before the throne. But he remained indifferent and continued his stroll through the frost-laden halls. After all, the Queen likely possessed full awareness of the schemes unfolding beneath her nose already.