How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 696: Frozen Trials 8

Within a serene woodland dusted in silvery frost, a little girl strolled joyfully down a slim trail.

"Hmm~ hm~ nng~"

A gentle melody escaped her lips, faint and airy, nearly merging with the chill breeze rustling through the branches.

Dawn's rays filtered past the overhead limbs, casting golden flecks over the iced earth.

Every footfall produced a soft crackle on the fragile frost sheet.

She gazed skyward, her face beaming with a radiant grin.

"The weather's nice today, Mama! I believe we'll collect even more spirit lotuses this round!"

Excitement filled her tone, innocent and optimistic.

Her mother trailed behind, offering a tender smile while extending a hand to ruffle the girl's hair.

The snow-white locks, shimmering in the sunlight, fluttered delicately with her motion.

"Yes... I believe we'll manage to pick up a few extra ones this time."

Her words flowed steadily. Comforting.

"Hehe, and then you'll heal up quicker and feel better soon, right? I can't wait~!"

The little one advanced with enthusiasm, clutching a modest brown basket between her palms.

It appeared somewhat oversized for her frame, yet she bore it with pride, treating it like a treasure.

The mother's grin remained in place from behind.

It held firm.

Reassuring.

Yet merely skin-deep.

Cough...!

She swiftly averted her face, muffling her mouth with her sleeve as a quiet cough slipped out. It stayed subdued.

Not forceful.

Yet it recurred frequently enough to signal an underlying issue.

She composed herself before her child could spot it.

A subtle iciness lingered far inside her torso.

Not from the woods' chill.

Not from the seasonal gusts.

But something far more frigid.

Something that wouldn't thaw.

"Celestine," she murmured kindly, maintaining a soft tone. "Proceed with more caution. Monsters might still lurk nearby."

The girl halted and spun back boldly.

Her gaze sparkled. Pure.

"Don't fret, Mama!" she declared confidently, swelling her chest a bit. "I am one with ice and the cold! I'll defeat whatever monster approaches us!"

She lifted a small fist like victory was already hers.

The mother observed her for an extended moment.

Then she shook her head softly.

It appeared her offspring had taken on more traits from her than desired.

.....

"Hnn...?"

Snow gradually awakened, a muted ache throbbing at her temples.

She uttered a faint moan while propping herself from the mattress below. The linens felt cozy. Plush. Excessively plush.

"What... happened?"

Her speech emerged hushed, laden with drowsiness.

She blinked repeatedly, attempting to clarify her sight. The chamber surrounding her was unknown. Timbered walls. A compact pane to her side. Light drapes drifting mildly from an imperceptible draft.

This wasn't the inn.

And certainly not a glacial realm.

Her pulse calmed as consciousness gradually resurfaced.

"A new location..."

She peered at her form. Altered attire. Thinner material. More basic.

Her mind remained foggy, but she discerned the specifics well enough to grasp one fact—

She no longer rested where she'd dozed off.

"Am I in the third trial now?" she whispered to herself.

She strained to remember her final recollection.

The lodge.

The celebration evening.

The phony Riley.

The phony Snow.

How she'd held firm and barred their entry.

She'd braced for at least a month's persistence. Such ordeals operated that way. Steadfastness. Resilience. Observing deceptions attempt to erode her.

But following that evening...

After rejecting them and ascending to her modest chamber in the inn...

The instant she reclined—

Brilliant glow.

It engulfed her view entirely.

Identical to each trial's completion.

She breathed out deliberately.

Thus, it concluded indeed.

Her eyes wandered the space once more.

This was evidently not the inn quarters she'd occupied. That had been tight. Unadorned. A tad grimy. This one seemed... inhabited. Spotless. Oddly recognizable.

She massaged her brow lightly.

Regardless, she felt some relief that the second ordeal had passed.

Merely recalling it stirred a subtle knot in her core.

Observing an alternate self and Riley coexist so effortlessly... grinning, bantering, arranging an outing as if routine—

It impacted her greater than anticipated.

She'd believed herself ready.

Believed herself detached.

Yet witnessing it unfold so smoothly, so at ease... it had frayed her.

Even aware it was illusory, it failed to quell the annoyance.

Failed to suppress the subtle envy.

She released a quiet breath and shifted her limbs to the bed's edge.

Cool breeze grazed her flesh.

"Third trial..." she whispered once more.

Her stare intensified a touch.

No matter what this challenge entailed—

Clarity of mind was essential.

Initially, akin to prior examinations, she required details.

Snow compelled herself to remain composed.

Fretting proved useless.

She rose steadily from the mattress and surveyed the area thoroughly now.

It was orderly.

Pristine. Light streamed softly via a lofty casement.

The furnishings weren't inexpensive—gleaming timber, etched patterns, plush coverings.

This wasn't a mere commoner's dwelling.

And as she descended from the bed, another detail emerged.

The surroundings seemed... vaster.

The ground appeared more distant than expected. The table by the partition loomed higher. The looking glass opposite even looked disproportionately grand.

She creased her brow faintly and approached it.

Her strides felt buoyant. Diminished.

Upon arriving at the mirror and peering upward—

She halted abruptly.

"A child...?"

The image confronting her wasn't her accustomed physique.

Ivory tresses cascaded smoothly beyond her shoulders, pristine and untainted like new-fallen snow.

Her orbs lacked the icy pallor of her former sacred form, displaying instead a milder, sharper hue—still vivid, still captivating.

Her traits were refined. Overly so.

She appeared no beyond eight or nine years.

A lovely youngster.

Absent the juvenility in her countenance, she'd have matched her prior visage effortlessly. The grace persisted, merely... scaled down.

She donned a pale gown, unpretentious yet evidently costly. The cloth was superior. The seams precise. A subtle aristocracy clung to its drape.

Whatever this "Child" represented, she wasn't commonplace.

Snow examined her petite fingers.

Thus, the ordeal centered on this youngster.

An alternate existence? A new persona?

Did it mirror the second test—something emblematic to decipher?

Or must she endure it fully?

She remained uncertain.

She parted her hands gradually and attempted to summon mana.

At minimum, she had to assess her available strength—

"Celestine!"

The portal adjacent to her quarters flew ajar.

"Hm?"

Prior to her response, a figure dashed inside and clasped her tiny hands securely.

"I warned you against employing your mana! Recall what befell you yesterday!"

Snow glanced upward.

A mature lady positioned herself in front.

Their visages bore resemblances—the identical gaze, the matching nasal contour—but the lady possessed gentle chestnut locks rather than white.

Concern etched her features.

Genuine concern.

She promptly inspected Snow, sweeping aside her hair, pressing a palm to her brow softly as if verifying no fever.

"You seem okay at the moment..." the lady whispered, exhaling in relief. "But promise not to repeat it."

She drew Snow—Celestine—into a gentle hug.

"I know I ought to rejoice you're alert, but... forgive me, dear. Mother simply frets over you."

Mother.

The term landed oddly within Snow’s core.

Encompassing limbs encircled her diminutive frame.

Tender fingers caressing her locks.

A mild aroma of something recognizable and soothing.

It felt... comforting.

Snow tensed unwittingly.

She lacked guidance on reacting.

During her own youth, such fondness had eluded her.

A parent's affection.

...

"My successor advances steadily through the third trial. Rest assured, esteemed visitor."

The Frost Queen’s tone resounded softly through the icy chamber.

Yet Riley appeared far from reassured.

Rather, greater bewilderment clouded his features.

"Did you permit her to advance past the second trial?" he inquired bluntly.

"I’ve already affirmed that," she answered, eyes averted from him.

"But she didn’t provide the response you sought, did she?"

The Frost Queen at last directed her sight his way. No annoyance marked her demeanor. Merely serenity.

"No," she conceded. "She did not."

"Then why—"

"It belongs to my design," she interrupted fluidly. "I hold the right to adjust it at will."

She rose from her seat deliberately, wisps of frost following lightly at her steps as she advanced several paces.

"Her reply deviated from my initial intent. Nevertheless..." she hesitated, gaze tightening in reflection, "the sentiments she revealed held no deficiency."

Riley held his tongue.

"A determination in her caught my notice," the Frost Queen pressed on. "It remained unshaken. Without falter."

Her timbre eased—not heated, but richer.

"It struck me as peculiar. As she regarded that apparition... her eyes echoed one who had cherished for centuries."

Riley’s forehead creased mildly.

"Or perhaps,"

he added softly,

"one who had borne witness to affection flourish from afar. One who had savored envy, forfeiture, loyalty, resentment... and yet selected love."

The Frost Queen eyed him subtly.

"The feelings she invested in my ordeal were authentic. Intense. Unrestrained."

She offered a slight inclination.

"Such is what I can recognize."

Riley found no words.

He grasped only partially what Snow had enacted within that test.

He could envision it revolved around him—her ordeals often looped back to him somehow.

But to etch such a mark on the Frost Queen...

That demanded no small feat.

Nonetheless, should the Frost Queen endorse it, Riley saw no reason to contest.

He placed faith in Snow.

And trusted her decisions stemmed from resolve.

With the third trial flowing well, the fourth, fifth, and sixth might even be skipped.

Unless the Frost Queen opted to reconsider.

Riley cast a quick look her direction.

Her visage stayed impartial. Pensive. Free of turmoil.

He suspected she'd honor her commitment now.

"The third trial..." he breathed to himself quietly.

And for the initial instance since the onset—

A subtle unease took root in his heart.