How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 700: Frozen Trials 11

Huff—!

Huff—!

"Haaah...! Haaah...!"

Harsh gasps ripped across the silent woodland.

Snow cracked beneath hurried steps while a young female dashed through the icy trees, tripping several times yet compelling her weary limbs onward.

A pair of tiny white horns protruded from her head's sides, partially concealed under tangled locks of light-colored hair.

Crimson liquid seeped from her nostrils.

Additional blood trickled from her mouth's edge.

Shadowy lines throbbed under her flesh, gradually extending over her throat like fine fissures in crystal.

The agony proved intolerable.

Each pulse in her chest seemed like an internal rip.

Yet the girl pressed on.

She dared not halt.

Her gut instincts yelled urgently.

Flee.

Endure.

Whatever it took.

In her wake, shouts resounded amid the trees.

"Capture it!"

"Slay that monster!"

"No—!"

A contrasting tone barked out abruptly.

"We require her living!"

One fellow sneered with chill mirth.

"It won't hurt if it sheds some limbs, will it?!"

"The hex ought to hinder her shortly. Merely keep her in sight."

Twigs broke as multiple shadows forced their way past the foliage.

Clad in shadowy cloaks with hoods, their aura carried an eerie otherworldliness.

With each advance, a subtle wave of corrupted holy force emanated from them—distorted, tainted, perverse.

Followers of the demonic faith.

Among the vilest and most despicable entities across the land.

They drew might from sacred essence, though twisted into a shadowy, leeching form. The potency it bestowed remained potent.

Yet it exacted a heavy toll.

And rendered them readily noticeable.

Hence, devotees of the dark rarely operated in plain view.

They lurked in hidden lairs, forsaken temples, lost remnants—any spot shielding them from the faithful's gaze. For their aura served as a signal to bearers of pure holy might.

Holy knights.

Priests.

Judges of heresy.

To such folk, the mark of dark essence resembled the odor of decay.

Utterly unmistakable.

Thus, dark believers typically schemed in shadows.

But at this instant?

These individuals showed no concern.

They made no effort to conceal their strength.

Shadowy force billowed about them while they pursued the escaping lass like predators encircling quarry.

For the youth they sought...

Outweighed any need for discretion.

Surpassed even their personal peril.

Moreover—

They trod the northern realms.

A brutal, secluded domain where holy influence scarcely penetrated.

Holy knights proved scarce here.

Priests scarcer still.

Spotting one able to detect their taint in this glacial expanse equated to unearthing verdant meadows under perpetual frost.

Thus, the group hunted without restraint.

Before them, the antlered youth faltered once more, almost tumbling as fresh torment wracked her frame.

"...Mommy...!"

Her cry fractured during the sprint.

Salty trails coursed her features, stark against her fair complexion, splashing the white like ebony droplets.

Her respiration worsened steadily.

She sensed it clearly.

The toxin delving further into her system each instant.

Solely her lineage enabled her continued motion...

Her draconic heritage.

As she forged ahead amid the woods, her mind wandered to recent events.

Only hours ago... it seemed ordinary.

Ordinary in her fashion, anyhow.

Her parent had vanished two decades past.

Still, she'd thrived solo adequately.

The lair her dam bequeathed lay concealed atop a frosted summit, within a cavern hewn profoundly into rock. Such a site no mortal ought to access—overly sheer, excessively frigid, too remote in savage climes.

None had neared it previously.

She'd existed in peace.

With caution.

Precisely as her dam instructed.

’Steer clear of mankind.’

Until capable of self-defense.

She'd obeyed.

Avoided settlements entirely.

Shunned paths altogether.

Concealed her presence always.

Then why...?

Why the pursuit now?

The youth clenched her jaws against surging torment in her torso.

She remained juvenile for a wyrm.

Scarcely past infancy by draconic measure.

Nevertheless, frailty eluded her.

Against ordinary folk in chase, resistance was feasible.

Victory achievable.

Wyrms instilled pause in battle-hardened fighters.

Most mortals pondered deeply ere challenging one.

These pursuers differed markedly.

They bore sacred might.

Or closer...

A mockery thereof, warped beyond recognition.

Infernal essence.

Repugnant.

Polluted.

It adhered to them akin to festering.

Upon assaulting her, preparations stood ready.

A malediction.

She missed its invocation entirely.

Recollection held only abrupt anguish erupting within.

Thereafter, vitality waned progressively.

Her mystic reserves bound, ensnared by the hex infiltrating her conduits.

Even her wyrmish ichor—the essence meant to cleanse poisons—faltered against it.

The foulness proved overwhelming.

Excessively aberrant.

Fresh acute pang lanced her torso.

Her supports buckled near collapse.

Trailing afar, the dark devotees' calls reverberated through the grove.

Persisting in pursuit.

Drawing nearer steadily.

The youth gnawed her lower lip till it bled.

Then compelled her quaking supports forward anew.

Flee.

Persistence in flight alone sufficed.

She scanned her surroundings via dimmed gaze.

View wavered as the frosted woods distorted about her.

Direction escaped her awareness long since.

Leftward.

Rightward.

Ahead.

Direction proved irrelevant.

Primal urges dominated utterly.

She fled blindly.

Until—

Thud...!

Her form collided with a firm barrier.

"...Uh..."

She reeled rearward and toppled into drifts, extremities feeble and benumbed.

Briefly, the world whirled.

Gradually, she raised her gaze.

And dread gripped her core.

Looming ahead... stood a cloaked figure.

"Haha... you're quite the runner, pale serpent... tsk."

Mocking glee filled the figure's tone.

The youth quivered.

Reflex preceded thought as she sought to regain footing.

Flight imperative—

Essential—

Smack—!

A savage boot struck her flank.

Her diminutive frame hurtled through powder prior to slamming against a proximate trunk.

Thud!

"Ughck—!"

Crimson surged from her mouth as collision expelled breath from lungs.

Sight dimmed momentarily.

Steps neared.

"Hey! Avoid damaging the goods...!"

A further cloaked individual approached, additional silhouettes emerging from woods behind.

"Ah, apologies," her kicker replied indifferently. "Hard to resist. This wretched serpent insisted on complicating matters, you know."

The newcomer tsked irritably.

"Regardless... sigh. Proceed with erecting a barrier. No unwanted meddling desired."

"Yeah, yeah."

The kicker dismissed with a shrug.

Ere departing, he eyed the youth slumped by bark.

Malice twisted his hidden features.

Then he pivoted away.

The rest advanced.

They bent low, scrutinizing her as trackers assess ensnared game.

"Wow... behold her," one whispered.

"Sans horns, she'd pass for fully mortal, eh?"

His companion snickered.

"Evidently gifted for a fledgling wyrm. Word says they shift to forms they know well..."

"So her dam must've devoured plenty of folk, right?"

Quiet chuckles escaped the pair.

Their stares held icy intrigue upon her.

As if no individual.

Merely a curious sample.

Such brutality...

Such torment...

What fault bore she?

Comprehension eluded the fledgling.

Her kind famed for sagacity. Wyrms endured ages, absorbed knowledge patiently, grasped reality with serene insight.

Yet by wyrmic reckoning, she remained an infant.

Terror seized her.

Suffering assailed her.

Each inhalation scorched within.

Escape beckoned her will.

Cessation she craved.

Maternal return she yearned for.

Though mystic potency within her petite form tripled that encircling her foes... it availed naught.

Their inflicted hex had locked it entirely.

Reserves roiled fiercely in conduits, yet ignored her summons.

Flawless lineage.

Demoted to mere quarry for mortal seizure.

For examination.

For barter.

For abuse.

Her inaugural venture from nest's heights.

Her premiere glimpse of realms past maternal-guarded peaks.

Realization dawned now.

Existence far icier... far harsher... than fancies conceived.

Petty visions of distant domains...

Inquisitive thoughts on mankind...

They crumbled like delicate panes.

Hence...

Tears alone remained.

"Hey—ahaha observe. She's weeping."

"Hahaha! Priceless. Regret lacking a capture crystal now."

"Never figured serpents wept!"

Cloaked figures erupted in guffaws.

Their mirth resounded in hushed groves.

One neared and squatted by her side.

He clutched a rune-inscribed metal band.

Despite frailty, sighting it triggered—

Innate alarms wailed.

Peril.

Utter peril.

Should that affix her throat...

"H-Help...

Faint and raspy emerged her plea.

He halted.

"Ho?"

Amused, he regarded her downward.

Smile widened under cowl.

"No aid comes, little one. Yield quietly."

"...S-Somebody... help me!"

Desolation fractured her sight as cry escaped.

Encircling men persisted in hilarity.

The band inched toward her nape.

Dread quaked her as doom loomed.

Then—

The inconceivable transpired.

"...What?"

A keen noise sliced the breeze.

[Low Level Ice Magic]

[Ice Thorn]

Crack—!

A frost spike erupted from earth under his grip.

It impaled his hand outright.

Ere shriek formed—

Chill burst over limb.

Frost propagated swiftly, climbing form like animated frost.

Within one exhalation—

Solidity encased him wholly.

Followed by—

Shatter.

Form fragmented as fragile panes.

Icy shards of tissue dispersed over drifts.

Quiet descended.

Mirth ceased at once.

Cloaked ones stiffened.

Warily... alertly...

Heads swiveled toward assault's origin.

And there—

Mere paces distant—

Stood yet another youthful female.

Silver tresses danced softly in wintry gusts.

Demeanor serene.

Icy.

Devoid of sentiment.

Yet the mystic aura emanating...

It chilled profoundly.

A crushing surge of glacial force permeated woods.

Chill plunged abruptly, rime advancing over terrain.

Bodies of men grew rigid.

Exhalations misted.

And initially since hunt's onset—

Terror flickered in gazes.