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 sheen.
The atmosphere quivered—not in fury, but with a hushed acknowledgment.
Her determined blue eyes sparkled brightly.
The earlier uncertainty had vanished completely.
Gradually, Snow stood up.
Every motion felt firm and purposeful.
She didn't appear as if battling to endure the tempest anymore.
Instead, she seemed to have comprehended its essence.
With no delay, she exited the igloo.
FOOOOSHHH!!!
The blizzard engulfed her right away.
Gusts howled like a savage creature, with snow whipping her form in sharp strikes.
All sight disappeared.
The surroundings turned back to swirling white turmoil.
It felt brutal.
It showed no pity.
It choked the breath.
Yet on this occasion—
Snow avoided shielding herself with mana.
She allowed the chill to brush her flesh.
She permitted the gales to wail beside her.
For her response was already clear.
She gradually raised her head and gazed into the gale, despite seeing only boundless white.
Her breaths evened out.
Inhale.
Exhale.
The tempest wasn't opposing her.
It lingered in expectation.
".....Stop."
Her tone remained gentle.
But it held total command.
The result came at once.
The furious blasts ceased as if cut off abruptly.
The twirling flakes halted frozen, then drifted softly to the ground.
The gloomy, roiling heavens split open in a wide wave—
And rays of sun poured in.
Dazzling. Cozy. Glowing.
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 ripped through the dense snowy expanse, surging straight onward.
The snow coverings parted, exposing the firm icy ground 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 far off, free from the white veil.
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 watched all that transpired in her territory.
For the shortest instant—
She grinned.
It stayed 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 resounded gently across the chilled chamber.
As the ruler of this land—and the entity whose rule over ice set its principles—she had figured Snow would endure for days.
To roam aimlessly.
To fight desperately.
To gradually uncover the veils of error before seizing the trial's reality.
But Snow had attained that insight in just hours.
The Frost Queen’s eyes shone with real 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 area quieted again.
Yet in the Queen’s icy stare, eagerness started to flourish.
The moment had come for the next challenge.
....
Huff...
A thin wisp of vapor rose from Riley’s mouth as he breathed out, the frigid air turning his exhale to ice crystals.
He settled down on a huge chunk of ice he'd cut neatly from the dungeon's barrier, molding it into a rough chair.
The icy rock creaked softly under his mass.
With a precise flow of mana—and using the shattered rods near the dungeon's gateway, plus cracked wooden massive bats dropped by prior beasts—he built a simple campfire in front.
The fire popped defiantly against the crushing chill.
It offered little heat.
Yet it sufficed.
His azure eyes wandered to the farthest parts of the dungeon passage.
The shadows there weighed dense and multilayered, as if holding layers past simple darkness.
Briefly, his face eased.
Snow’s aura had faded.
He sensed the change sharply when it struck—the twist in space, the fade of the world's fabric.
Entrants to the real ordeal 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 stayed calm.
Nevertheless...
Knowing her vanishing was intended didn't fully ease the worry in his heart.
"...You’ll be fine,"
Snow wasn't weak.
Her strength shone in mind, magic, and soul.
He believed in her fully.
Still—
His gaze intensified.
"Those guys really aren’t moving, huh...."
The remark slipped out softly.
Though he kept his mana and divinity in check, Riley had climbed to the highest level long ago.
His awareness remained sharp.
Faint shifts in the dungeon's framework—slight warps in the icy 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 no advance came.
Not once after he and Snow arrived.
That fact stood out as odd.
In the first storyline—the one he recalled—Snow would confront the commanders prior to the true ordeal.
They served as her guardians.
Her proof of value before the Queen recognized her at all.
But currently...
Zilch.
No sudden attack.
No blocking.
No confrontation.
Pointing to just one conclusion.
The Frost Queen had commanded them to hold.
Riley tilted back a bit, his eyes tightening on the blaze.
"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 did she detect him?
He hadn't let out any bit of his divinity since arrival.
His mana stayed tightly held. His aura toned down to that of a capable—yet ordinary—fighter.
Even so...
This remained her dungeon.
Her realm.
A leader of her stature could sense ripples in her area like touches on flesh.
"...Did you notice me the moment I stepped in?"
The odds favored it.
If true...
Then her commanders' pause wasn't doubt.
It showed strategy.
"That might not be entirely the case—"
Riley’s words faded in his mind.
A recollection emerged.
His eyes squinted as the elements clicked.
Of course.
An element existed that could make the Frost Queen wary.
An item out of place in this dungeon.
An presence a ruler over her own land couldn't overlook.
The shadowy divinity from the zealots.
The piece he'd taken in.
Though he'd purified and locked it away, though it no longer surged wildly inside, divinity stayed divinity.
And shadowed divinity—linked to wild devotion—marked the weave of existence.
"Tsk... was she watching that moment?"
Should she have seen him take it...
From her view, a mysterious top-tier figure had effortlessly consumed tainted divinity in her space.
No leader would brush that aside.
And here, in her domain.
The rules yielded to her desire.
The ice bore her senses.
The flakes relayed jolts like veins on skin.
She likely spotted it.
"...So that’s why you’re holding back your generals."
Riley bent ahead a touch, arms on his legs as the campfire gleamed in his sight.
Anyway, at least she avoided rash actions.
If she lunged boldly—if she endangered Snow outright or tried to drive them out—he could counter fittingly.
No full unleashing required.
Merely sufficient.
His look shadowed lightly.
He dared not employ much of his divinity.
Doing so might provide a reason.
And Erebil...
That title alone evoked a gloom grazing his mind.
Should the divide between fate weaken or excess sacred power seep into the earthly realm, that old entity would exploit any gap to return.
Riley refused to offer her the tiniest opening to reclaim the world.
"...I still have a card up my sleeve, but..."
He scanned the dungeon entry, a bit irritated.
"Where the heck is that cat now?"
Time had passed since he triggered Cheshire’s card.
The call ought to hit him immediately.
That magical bother had the odd knack for showing up precisely when desired—or rather, when it'd spark the biggest flair.
Yet nothing.
No flashy arrival.
No twisting gateway.
No excessive dramatic welcome.
Riley tsked.
"Don’t tell me you’re ignoring me..."
With Cheshire's nature, it fit perfectly.
The feline acted on whims.
Capriciously.
Obsessively drawn to showmanship.
Without spectators or a grand enough "miraculous" instant to seize, he'd postpone purely for flair.
Riley breathed out.
"He’s probably just waiting to have a grand, exaggerated entrance..."
Likely with 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 fix him.
...Possibly.
Riley agreed inwardly, content with the planned payback, and turned his stare back to the flames.
His gaze turned remote, the glow mirroring softly in them as his mind wandered to a far graver issue than icy rulers or wary troops.
The faith.
The one rising under his title.
He remained clueless on its origin.
He'd never spread teachings.
Never claimed godhood.
Never sought devotees.
Yet... it thrived.
Worse—it went beyond simple praise.
The dark divinity piece he'd claimed came from zealots.
Devout followers.
Those who bent belief into frenzy.
That even a group of such adorers reached this northern stretch signaled one truth.
It wasn't confined.
If they'd hit the northern wilds—isolated, unforgiving, thinly settled—then the creed had likely blanketed the land.
"...Annoying."
Riley eased back, eyes slitting.
He couldn't scour the whole land alone, chasing every sect sprouting in his honor.
Even possible, it'd attract excessive notice.
And notice was the final thing he wanted amid handling sacred bits and elder powers eyeing flaws.
Thus, choices stayed narrow.
One route—
Evelyn.
He might direct her to handle it.
As his duplicate, she held his recollections, his reasoning, his edge for severity.
Crushing a nascent sect fell easily in her grasp.
However...
His face toughened subtly.
She probably knew already.
If the faith swelled to dispatch zealots north, she'd have caught it.
So her inaction meant intent.
She allowed its expansion.
Watching.
Gauging.
"...You’re moving on your own again."
Riley didn't mind it.
Actually, he'd crafted her for self-growth.
But such freedom bred uncertainty.
For the present, he couldn't hand her full control—not with stakes tied to his identity and sacredness.
Even if her acts served him ultimately.
That narrowed to scant ties left.
The Church.
Or the royals.
His stare honed a fraction.
The Emperor knew of the abrupt surge of vile adorers nationwide.
The crown's might had started subtle crackdowns.
That's why the high noble ventured here initially.
If Riley neared them and posed this as another perilous sect linked to foul might, their aims would match seamlessly.
No full disclosure needed.
Just adequate.
"...Having them wipe out a religion born in my name," he muttered dryly. "How ironic."
Yet it'd succeed.
The Empire spanned wide.
Regarding the Church...
Riley let out a slow breath, eyeing embers lift from the campfire.
He could just contact Saintess Emilia and raise the issue.
With her, compliance would likely follow without question.
From obligation.
...And deeper ties.
Though Riley scarcely grasped that aspect.
Still, the Church differed from the Empire.
Unlike the Emperor—built on shared insight and silent faith—the Church required precision.
Order.
Admission.
Particularly against vile adorers.
And this wasn't standard fiendish taint.
That posed the issue.
The sect wielded no infernal force.
They harnessed divinity.
Bent. Spoiled. Shadowed.
But sacred still.
Once senior priests probed a trace of that force, they'd spot the variance.
Infernal mana raged wild and alien to sacred waves. But this...
This resembled sacred rule twisted awry.
Sparking inquiries.
Thorny ones.
"Where did it originate?"
"Who is the source?"
"How was it obtained?"
The Church would probe.
They invariably did.
Emilia might not push—her faith in him deep enough for blind acceptance—but her backing order wouldn't sit still.
High priests, hunters, artifact experts...
They'd demand truths.
And Riley held none ready.
"With the Emperor, trust already exists,"
he muttered softly.
"With the Church... it’s doctrine first, trust later."
That didn't mark them foes.
Merely cumbersome partners.
His mind whirled on, weighing realm fallout, sacred traces, suppression plans—
Then—
A ripple.
A flicker in the breeze.
Faint.
Yet intentional.
Riley’s eyes focused sharp.
His form hazed.
SWIIISHH!!!
In under a heartbeat, he dissolved from the ice block and rematerialized paces distant.
His blade—Valeria—flashed out in a fluid sweep, its edge halting inches from a slim throat.
Chilled mist shivered near the metal.
"W-Well now... aren’t you quite the aggressive human...."
The tone rang airy. Entertained.
Riley’s face stayed firm.
"Who are you?"
A youthful lady faced him—stunning, nearly fragile. Her grin stayed serene, nearly teasing.
But human she wasn't.
Tiny bent horns protruded from her brows.
Subtle, gleaming scales ran over sections of her hide like chilled designs.
And trailing her, a thin tail drifted idly in the frosty breeze.
Her palm rose gradually, fingers spread in a sign of calm.
"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 slitted faintly.
Blade to her neck, she showed no twitch.
No mana surge.
No guard up.
No dread.
She'd gauged their divide.
And embraced it.
Curious.
After a short wait, Riley eased Valeria back.
The steel's clink rang mildly as it slid away.
Anica shifted back a step, not from alarm—more courtesy.
"Guide me?" Riley echoed steadily.
"Yes."
Her grin warmed 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 official statement.
Riley eyed her briefly.
"Is that so..." he whispered.
The queen summoned him within?
That surprised.
Either utter assurance in her hold—
Or a bid to bargain.
Riley’s look strayed momentarily to the inner ice paths.