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

People often picture a dungeon as a tear in the fabric of space—a sharp fissure in existence leading to a dangerous, alien realm.

These spots are called Crack Dungeons, setting them apart from other types entirely.

Plain Dungeons emerge naturally in the world and stick to reliable patterns inside, while Bounded Field Dungeons get confined by man-made seals and face tight controls, but crack dungeons stay chaotic at their core.

They act like scars on the world.

Erratic. Fierce.

The majority of dungeon breaks stem from these fissures.

Mana gathers inside the hidden area, creating endless buildup of force.

Once the inner stability shatters—or if the mana overloads the space around it—the dungeon splits wider, unleashing beasts into the outer lands like water crashing from a broken levee.

Whole cities have crumbled under such chaos.

That's why, upon finding a crack dungeon, it's seldom ignored.

Groups like knight orders, adventurer guilds, arcane towers, and occasionally the Church dispatch forces to conquer it—for rewards, for materials, or just to avert catastrophe.

When a dungeon crack settles into stability, the nearby atmosphere twists.

Mana sparks, squeezes, and warps, building a thick weight that hangs over the ground like a hidden tempest.

Based on the dungeon's level, the intense mana concentration close to the entrance might drop even a seasoned knight to the dirt, no magic involved.

Air turns hard to draw in.

Steps grow labored.

Mind feels burdened.

"We’re getting near."

Riley's statement drew a quiet nod from Snow.

The trip had seemed oddly mixed—endless, but also quick.

Time slipped away amid the steady surges of foes that surged up to hinder them.

Beasts born of ice and tainted mana struck without pause, pulled toward them by pure gut feeling.

Most fell with little trouble.

But now and then, a tougher one emerged.

Ice behemoths that rumbled the earth underfoot.

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

Those endured just a bit more—frozen solid in utter cold or sliced open before escape.

Now, the very atmosphere seemed off.

Snow eased her pace.

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

The mana in that spot swirled openly, twisting and looping inward.

Snow squinted.

"...That’s it,"

Riley had already told her the dungeon's projected rank was SSS.

Still, Snow hadn't anticipated this level.

The massive aura looming there pressed down hard—overwhelming beyond mere ranks or labels.

She'd felt heavy mana zones before, spots where the air squeezed the flesh and squeezed the chest, but this stood apart.

That sort of force always came off as forced—like a deliberate push from outside.

This one, though...

This came across as innate.

As though the entire world had gained weight.

Not like hands forcing her down, but as if pull of the earth had subtly grown, requiring extra push for each stride.

Even inhaling felt thicker, each breath pulling in mana so dense it nearly coated the tongue.

"Are you nervous?"

Riley inquired, eyeing Snow at his side.

She halted briefly, assessing herself.

"I can’t say I’m not," she confessed truthfully. "But... for some reason, I don’t feel like I’m going to fail."

Riley flinched a touch.

"Please don’t raise any flags..."

"Flags?" Snow cocked her head.

"Just... superficial stuff," he dismissed it fast. "Never mind that."

"Hmm..."

Snow eyed his response for an instant, interest sparking in her gaze, but she dropped it. Then, in a gentler tone, she went on,

"Part of the reason I’m not that nervous is because you’re here with me, you know."

Riley sensed a light ease from her statement—but wariness came with it.

Faith brought solace.

Overconfidence spelled risk.

"Even if I’m around," he stated evenly, "please don’t act recklessly once you’re inside. I might only be able to guide you at the entrance."

"I won’t," Snow answered right away.

She offered a smile—soft, steady, comforting.

And still, for causes Riley couldn't quite pin down, a slim strand of concern rooted in his core.

After all, some of why Snow stood as she did... tied back to Evelyn.

He lacked knowledge on the extent of her meddling, or how deeply Snow's strength drew from remnants of a shattered realm.

What challenge lay waiting in the dungeon remained unclear.

Yet...

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

Whatever faced Snow past that portal—it wouldn't bring true peril to her.

After mulling it over briefly, Riley finally voiced it.

"By the way, Snow... are you sure we shouldn’t have greeted the grand duke first before coming here?" he questioned. "We could’ve greeted the count as well, seeing as he’s already on his way back."

Snow eased her stride a fraction.

"Although we already informed Count Roverick," she responded, voice reflective, "the grand duke’s reaction might have differed—even if you’re with me, Riley."

She wavered, then let out a light sigh.

"I forgot to tell you, but... let’s just say my father, His Majesty the Emperor, didn’t exactly give me a favorable response when I explained that we’d be heading north to clear the dungeon."

Riley arched a brow but stayed quiet, allowing her to go on.

"And besides," Snow continued, "I wanted this dungeon dealt with as quickly as possible. The damage it’s already caused to the northern territories is no longer something that can be brushed aside—especially within Count Roverick’s domain."

Riley breathed out softly.

He'd first assumed the grand duke would offer at least quiet backing, thanks to Snow being there.

But on second thought, pulling him in would just add chains to their actions—protocols, watching eyes, holdups.

Influence always carried strings.

"Regrettably, though, I’m fairly certain the duke is already aware we’re here." Riley noted.

Snow looked his way.

"How?"

"A master of his level can sense presences from hundreds of kilometers away if he so wishes,"

he explained steadily.

"Pinpointing specific mana signatures would be well within his... absurd range of capabilities."

His gaze briefly flickered toward Riley.

"And your mana signature is quite unique. It wouldn’t be difficult for him to notice."

Snow shook her head softly.

"Then he knows."

Snow appeared uneasy briefly—but then eased up.

"Since he hasn’t interfered..." she whispered, "...I guess he’s tacitly allowing us to proceed?"

"I wouldn’t call it permission," Riley countered. "More like he’s choosing to ignore us as much as possible."

He stopped, gaze sharpening on the far-off dungeon shine.

"He probably realizes we’re not here to play around."

"A small favor, then," Snow remarked with a subtle grin. "Well, no matter the case, this is a win-win for both sides."

They handle the dungeon head-on.

He sidesteps pointless political ties.

.....

Within the frozen caves and ice-covered corridors of the glacial fortress, utter quiet dominated.

At its center, on a seat hewn from unending frost, lounged a woman of stunning allure.

She donned a spotless white gown under a coordinating cloak, the material drifting like new powder.

Her flawless pale complexion glowed softly in the chill gleam of the crystal barriers, and when her lids parted—even for a flash—they sparkled like myriad flakes in lunar glow. Her locks, endless and pure, matched the hue of deep winter.

One slender palm lay against her face as if in light slumber.

But the atmosphere nearby weighed down—crushing—charged with a command that required no words.

For a split second, in her partly open stare, an image surfaced.

A young woman.

White tresses. Known mana. An aura stirring something buried in her iced spirit.

The vision wavered—

And faded.

The Frost Queen.

Unlike the hideous and twisted entities filling her realm, unlike the brutal forms of ice titans, frozen serpents, and twisted ice-spawn, she clearly looked... mortal.

And that rendered her infinitely more fearsome.

A sound shattered the hush.

"My queen..."

Beside her waited a frosted reptile-man in polished white plating, stance stiff, voice even but respectful.

Ice designs snaked over his hide as he uttered.

"A threat has been detected," he went on. "At the central plains. It is moving directly toward the dungeon."

He held back, picking terms with care.

"As most of our units are currently dispersed, an immediate and coordinated response to such an anomaly would require authorization. The frost giant chieftain has requested permission to—"

"Leave them be."

The reply came gentle.

"Yes—Yes, Your Majesty, I shall inform...." the reptile-man responded on reflex, starting to turn away—before halting abruptly.

"...Leave them be?"

"...Yes," the queen repeated, her tone just over a breath, yet it filled the space without effort.

"But Your Majesty," he ventured warily, "as I have reported, these individuals are anomalies. Their mana signatures do not correspond with any known faction or classification. Allowing them to advance unchecked—"

"It is fine."

Her palm moved a tad against her face.

"Send out as many waves as you possibly can," she added. "Let the monsters engage them freely."

A hesitation.

"And ensure their focus is on the girl."

The frosted reptile-man—Las—shivered from something beyond the freeze.

"...Understood, Your Majesty," he concluded, dipping low in respect.

He grasped none of her purpose.

He couldn't.

Yet submission wasn't optional—it was wired in.

As he left the hall, the enormous ice portals closing after, a thought hit him.

He hadn't detailed the intruders.

He hadn't noted their count.

Nor their genders.

But the queen had grasped it.

Flawlessly.

Las gulped, wonder and piety flooding his heart.

The Frost Queen truly is omniscient...

And with that truth taking hold, his allegiance swelled to near divine fervor.

Something more akin to adoration.

Behind him, solitary again on her icy seat, the queen's mouth lifted just a fraction—

as the far-off draw of her heir approached.