How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 709: Inheritance 3

Gallan, the chieftain of the Frost Giants, embodied utmost caution.

Precisely this quality elevated him to the pinnacle.

His raw power alone proved devastating—abilities matching those of a mature dragon, a realm scarce few could attain.

Yet power alone didn't forge him into a leader.

It was his mindset.

His manner of action.

Ever deliberate. Ever vigilant.

"...So this is what freedom feels like..."

His murmur emerged softly as he crossed the dungeon's enormous gateway.

For an instant—

He halted.

A brisk wind grazed him, unlike the dungeon's stale frost. It flowed. It swirled. It pulsed with life.

He had ventured out previously.

At the Frost Queen’s command.

Deployed as mere armament.

As mere instrument.

But now—

This felt utterly distinct.

This occasion, his steps stemmed from personal resolve.

No directive.

No restraint.

No unseen tether yanking him rearward.

"...."

His gaze dipped faintly.

Nothing persisted.

No compulsion.

No burden crushing his essence.

No fetter encircling his soul.

"It seems the human items are working, Chief..."

A subordinate voiced from the rear.

Gallan offered a subtle nod.

"...Yeah."

All sensed it distinctly.

The shift.

The bond that formerly linked them to the dungeon—

Eradicated.

Cleaved clean.

The artifacts seized from human hamlets—particularly their shrines and sanctuaries—performed precisely as anticipated.

Odd contraptions.

Seemingly delicate.

Yet infused with essence alien to this icy domain.

Force that shattered the dungeon’s dominion.

"..."

Gallan twitched his fingers lightly.

Still void.

No tug.

No opposition.

Not even the Frost Queen could compel their return now.

A soft exhale slipped from his mouth.

"...Good."

Nevertheless—

His stare intensified.

He refused to ease up.

For should she pursue—

Should she elect to intervene—

This flight would turn perilous.

"...Looks like those fanatics weren’t lying after all..."

Gallan whispered to himself.

Prior to this scheme—before crafting a genuine escape plot—he distrusted them utterly.

Those individuals.

The intruders who materialized in the dungeon months prior.

Humans.

Yet not entirely.

Fanatics.

They preached bizarre notions. Of "divinity," of "salvation," of shattering the cosmic hierarchy. Their rhetoric warped, their aura disquieting—like abominations masquerading in human guise, far worse than fiends.

At that juncture—

Gallan nearly pulverized them on the spot.

And still...

"They said human-made divine items could unbind those tied to unnatural forces... if the right conditions were met..."

His eyes constricted marginally.

It rang as utter drivel then.

A frantic deception.

Yet they proposed an exchange—

Procure divine items for them.

And they’d furnish means to rupture the dungeon’s grasp.

"...Tch."

Full belief evaded him.

Not entirely.

But he tested it nonetheless.

And presently—

[Divine Item: Blessed Drops of the Goddess]

[Effect: Can purify all status ailments]

Gallan examined the tiny flask clutched in his palm.

Drained.

Single-use per vial.

And their supply was scant.

Yet remarkably—

It sufficed.

Sufficient to disseminate among his tribe.

"...Heh."

A subdued huff escaped.

Be it fortune... or another factor...

It succeeded.

Gradually, Gallan pivoted his head.

His sight returned to the dungeon’s ingress.

That colossal, imposing gateway.

Hushed now.

Observing it—

For a fleeting instant—

His features toughened.

"...Just in case."

A profound tremor rippled across the earth.

Chill erupted outward.

His spell ignited instantly.

CRACK—!

Frost commenced forming.

Not merely a coating—

A barrier.

A colossal, dense edifice of rime and unyielding ice surged upward, enveloping the gateway completely. It proliferated, encasing the adjacent terrain, immobilizing all within.

[High Rank Ice Magic — Ice Shell]

Whatever it contacted—

Froze solid.

Utterly barricaded.

The atmosphere grew rigid.

Gallan eased his hand downward.

"...That should hold."

Yet as the words left—

He stayed tense.

For he understood.

The seamlessness of this breakout—

Stemmed not from superior might.

Not from greater speed.

It arose because—

The Frost Queen permitted it.

She opted for inaction.

And solely that...

Positioned them here presently.

"...."

Yet that implied not all within the dungeon shared her stance.

Her quietude signified no clemency.

And her minions—

The remaining beasts—

Lacked that same detachment.

Gallan’s fist clenched firmer.

"...Move."

His tone deepened, edged sharper.

"We don’t stop."

For the subsequent encounter—

Fortune might evade them.

Gallan’s incantation held immense potency.

Adequate to encase a warzone. Sufficient to halt all but genuine horrors.

However—

He avoided overconfidence.

"...It won’t hold her."

Should the Frost Queen stir, that barrier would shatter instantly. One motion from her sufficed to rend it asunder like illusion.

Still—

It targeted not her.

It barred the rest.

Excluding the Frost Queen...

...and the Frost Dragon.

Against those—

It availed naught.

"Where are we heading next, Chief?"

A giant advanced, seeking orders.

Gallan responded without delay.

"We move south."

His words rang firm.

"We eradicate the final nearby human outpost... then pivot north."

A brief lull.

His gaze steeled.

"...And claim the north as ours."

For a moment—

Hush.

Then—

A bellow.

The giants exploded in fervor, voices booming with thrill, veins pulsing at the prospect.

Liberty.

Dominion.

A destiny truly theirs.

Gallan refrained from their revelry.

His vision shifted ahead.

Toward the south.

Toward that locale.

...That human.

The silver-tressed one.

The blade-master.

He recalled him vividly.

Sensed him keenly.

Even remotely then, an anomaly clung to him.

A peril.

But—

"...He’s still human."

Gallan’s mandible set.

He hailed from an elite lineage.

A Frost Giant.

Born surpassing most.

Even amidst beasts, they ranked elite.

And that human—

Regardless of prowess—

Remained mortal-bound.

By frailty.

By constraints.

"...He’s not like that man."

That visitor.

Beside the Frost Queen.

That entity—

Diverged utterly.

Beyond comprehension.

A force Gallan shunned confronting.

But the Grand Duke?

"...I can kill him."

He uttered softly.

Chiefly to himself.

His senses—

Cautioned him.

Signaling difficulty ahead.

Hazardous strife.

Yet ultimately—

He opposed a mortal.

And versus a mortal—

Victory awaited.

"...Move out."

And thus the giants advanced.

....

...Yeah.

This matched his foresight.

Even so—

"...She really doesn’t care at all, huh..."

Riley exhaled softly, recalling the Frost Queen’s demeanor.

Or rather—

Her absence of it.

She spared no glance.

Not as Frost Giants breached.

Not during their rampage outward.

Not upon boundary crossing.

And thus—

She forfeited not merely Gallan.

But his entire retinue.

Most monsters aligned with giants fled alongside.

One of four generals—vanished.

That Frost Goblin Shaman—vanished.

A vast portion of her army—

Vanished.

"...Strange."

Riley’s brow furrowed lightly.

This clashed with expectations.

Even in the game—

The Frost Queen craved dominion.

Total dominion.

Particularly within her lair.

Naught stirred unbeknownst.

Naught transpired sans permission.

Yet currently—

She permitted collapse.

"...Too apathetic..."

Not negligence.

Not frailty.

Something profounder.

Eluding full grasp.

His sight descended faintly.

"...At this rate..."

A subtle notion surfaced.

Even if I do something here...

"...She probably won’t stop me."

That—

Proved the oddity.

Directly before him—

Hovering serenely—

Lay the dungeon core.

A radiant white sphere.

Unadorned.

Unguarded.

Nearly... vulnerable.

Riley anticipated its concealment deep inside. Fortified amid traps, shielded by premier guardians.

Instead—

It resided here.

In the castle’s heart.

Within a modest garden.

A realm incongruous amid ice.

Verdant soil.

Blooming floral expanse.

Gentle glow.

And centrally—

That sphere.

"...Hiding it in plain sight..."

Enveloped in potent spells warping sight, rendering it invisible.

Thus his initial oversight.

But for Riley—

Such veils faltered.

His divine essence rendered them ineffective.

He perceived it.

Detected it.

Its aberrant aura.

Particularly as his divinity resonated thus.

"...I can’t use much of my divinity... but this much should be fine right?"

He regarded it steadily.

Contemplating.

Assessing choices.

"...Now then..."

His fingers brushed his jawline lightly.

"What should I do..."

Behind—

Anica stiffened.

She trailed him silently throughout, observing mutely.

But now—

Witnessing his position.

His focus—

Her face tautened.

"...W-Wait..."

Her tone quivered faintly.

Her stare fixed on the sphere.

Then to Riley.

And finally—

To his hand.

Creeping upward gradually.

"Riley..."

A tentative step nearer.

"...You’re not seriously thinking about touching that, are you?"

....

As Gallan’s host progressed, their subsequent quarry soon appeared.

A hamlet.

No—

A bastioned outpost.

Count Roverick’s domain.

"...Looks like they were ready for us, Chief."

A giant grumbled.

Gallan held his response.

He merely gazed forth.

Afar, past enchanted ramparts, human troops assembled. Knights arrayed in ranks, shields upheld.

Mages positioned aft, mana coalescing aloft.

No frenzy.

No chaos.

They stood prepared.

"...As expected," Gallan intoned.

The instant detection occurred—

Humans mobilized.

With his presence...

Absence of readiness would surprise more.

"Do we attack, Chief?"

"...No."

The reply emerged even-keeled.

Monotone.

"...?"

Encircling giants faltered.

Puzzlement rippled swiftly.

"What do you mean, Chief?" one advanced, brow creased. "Their walls won’t hold. Their magic is weak. Even their warriors—look at them. We could crush them easily."

He spoke truth.

Their stature alone dwarfed fortifications. Might to demolish portals, spells to glaze battlefields.

Seizing it forcibly—

Feasible.

Effortless, truly.

But—

Gallan’s focus lingered on the enclave.

"We stay here."

His inflection brooked no dispute.

"...Our distance is our advantage."

Stillness descended.

"There’s a human inside," he elaborated measuredly. "...one capable of harming all of us."

That—

Stunned them.

Even the boisterous hushed.

A human?

Formidable enough to endanger the lot?

"...Chief, that’s—"

"I’m not guessing."

Gallan interrupted.

"I felt it."

His grasp firmed.

That aura.

Even distantly—

It endured.

Ominous.

Incisive.

As if poised.

"...That’s why..."

A subtle grin curved his mouth.

"We won’t rush in."

Deliberately, he lifted his arm.

Mana amassed at once.

Air chilled.

Compressed.

A enormous ice chunk materialized over his hand—

Swelling.

Ballooning.

Till matching a spacious dwelling.

The soil below fractured under strain.

"...We make them move."

His limb drew back—

And then—

"—We force him out."

BOOM—!

The titanic ice projectile cleaved the heavens, launched at the remote barriers with cataclysmic might.

The firmament appeared to fracture in its path.

Aimed squarely at the humans arrayed beneath.