Chapter 84: Frozen Throneroom
Chapter 84: Frozen Throneroom
The two days before departure passed.
On the first day, the party requisitioned cold-weather gear from the guild stores. The quartermaster—a weathered woman named Tess who had been outfitting Climbers for years—handed them each a stack of insulated underlayers, thermal cloaks lined with mana-conductive fibers, and gloves embedded with grip-enhancing runes. Elise inspected every piece with the clinical eye of someone who had grown up in a family that considered frostbite a failure of preparation rather than an environmental hazard. She discarded two cloaks that didn’t meet her standards, held a third up to the light to examine its stitching, and finally nodded approval.
"Frostbite isn’t part of the training," Elise said as she handed Nathan his gear. "It’s permanent tissue damage, and no healing potion is going to undo it completely. Wear your gloves. Keep your hands covered. If your fingers start going numb, tell me immediately."
"Yes, ma’am," Dillon replied with an exaggerated salute. "Anything else? Should we avoid licking the ice pillars too?"
Elise looked at him without a hint of amusement. "Yes, If you lick an ice pillar in sub-zero temperatures, your tongue will freeze to it. When you pull away, you’ll tear the skin off." She adjusted the strap on her pack. "I’ve seen it happen,It wasn’t funny."
"I wasn’t actually going to—"
"The fact that you thought of it is concerning enough."
On the second day, Nathan visited Vex at the TCA forge wing. The familiar smell of metal greeted him, and Ember chirped a greeting from her perch near the mana-forge. Vex was hunched over her workbench, etching runes into what looked like a set of armored gauntlets, and didn’t look up when he entered.
"Moonlight," Nathan said. "Just want you to check it before we head north."
Vex set down her etching tool and held out her hand. Nathan passed her the bow. She examined the limbs, the string, the Tyrant’s Eye in the riser—her scarred fingers moving with practiced precision. After a long moment, she handed it back.
"Perfect condition. String tension’s holding. The Eye’s stable. You’ve been taking care of it." She wiped her hands on her rag. "Heard you’re heading to the Frozen Throne. Ice constructs. Different challenge."
"Any advice?"
"Ice constructs have brittle joints. Aim for the connections, not the armor itself. You punch through the chest plate, you waste an arrow. You hit the shoulder joint, the whole arm comes off." She reached under her workbench and tossed him a small leather pouch. "Warming crystals. Activated by mana. Tuck them into your gloves and boots. Don’t freeze to death. Bad for business."
Nathan caught the pouch. It was warm to the touch. "Thanks, Vex."
"Don’t thank me. Just don’t die. I have a reputation to maintain, and my best customers dying in High Class Towers doesn’t help it."
That evening, the party gathered at the Grinding Stone for their traditional pre-climb meal. The café was quiet. Garrett nursed a cup of matcha, Volcan propped against his chair. Dillon had ordered something involving three different kinds of syrup. Elise reviewed the Frozen Throne dossier one final time.
"So," Dillon said, stirring his drink, "we’re trading lava for ice. Progress. Next Tower will probably be something boring, like a lightning storm or a swamp full of venomous frogs."
"There’s a Tower of the Storm’s Eye in the eastern archipelago," Elise said without looking up. "And the Tower of the Venom Marsh is in the southern wetlands. So you’re not far off."
"I was joking."
"I wasn’t."
Nathan set down his coffee. "We’ve handled volcanic heat, underwater combat, magical silence, and undead. Ice is just another environment. We adapt. We clear it. We move on."
Garrett raised his mug. "To adapting."
The party raised theirs. "To adapting."
---
The guild bus departed at dawn. Old Marren was already in the driver’s seat, his leathery face as unreadable as ever. He grunted what might have been a greeting and pulled away from the curb before Dillon had finished sitting down.
The landscape shifted as they drove north. The capital’s urban sprawl gave way to rolling farmland, the fields gradually thinning as the soil grew rockier and the air grew colder. Then the farmland gave way to something else—the ruins of an old city, its skyscrapers reduced to skeletal frames, their windows long since shattered, their steel bones rusted and frozen. A city from before the Towers. Two hundred years ago, people had lived here. Now it was a graveyard of glass and steel, slowly being consumed by rust and time.
No one spoke as they passed through it.
Beyond the ruins, the land rose into rocky foothills, and beyond those, the northern highlands spread in a vast white expanse. Snow covered everything. The road became a narrow track carved through drifts. The sky was pale grey, heavy with more snow. And on the horizon, rising from a frozen plateau, the Tower of the Frozen Throne gleamed with reflected aurora light—pale blue and green and violet rippling across its walls.
Old Marren stopped the bus at the base of the plateau. The door opened, and the cold hit Nathan like a wall. His Winterhart cloak activated immediately, but even through the thermal underlayer he could feel the cold pressing against his skin.
"Don’t freeze," Marren said.
The party disembarked and began the climb to the Tower’s entrance. The archway was crystalline frost, ancient and beautiful, and within it the portal shimmered with pale blue light. The air was so cold that every breath turned to diamond dust.
"Final check," Nathan said. "Thermal gear. Warming crystals. Elise, how’s the Frost Golem?"
"Better than it’s ever been." Elise’s staff was already glowing, and when she summoned the Golem, it materialized taller than usual—nine feet of crystalline ice, drawing power from the frozen environment. "The cold strengthens it. It won’t sublimate here."
"Mirko?"
Mirko shifted to humanoid form. "Ready, Master."
"Kuro?"
Kuro materialized beside him—tall, lean, black hair stark against the white snow. Her dark eyes surveyed the Tower’s entrance. ’Ice melts. Even the strongest ice.’
"Garrett? Dillon?"
Garrett hefted Volcan. The mace’s molten veins pulsed warmly in the cold. "Ready."
Dillon drew his katana, the blade already crackling with faint static. "Born ready. And also very cold. But ready."
Nathan drew Moonlight. The Tyrant’s Eye swirled in the riser, silver mist against the pale blue aurora. "Then let’s climb."
They stepped through the portal.
---
The Tower of the Frozen Throne deposited them into a world of ice and silence.
The first floor was a vast, open chamber—an ancient throne room, its walls carved with scenes of a forgotten kingdom. The carvings were frozen in the ice, details preserved with eerie clarity: kings and queens in long robes, armies clashing on frozen fields, a great throne at the center. Ice pillars rose to a ceiling lost in pale mist. The floor was polished ice, mirror-smooth and treacherous. The air was still and cold enough to make the lungs ache.
The party’s interface chimed:
[Tower of the Frozen Throne: Floor 1.]
[Objective: Clear all enemies.]
Mirko’s [Impenetrable Fortress] flickered to life. Elise’s Frost Golem stood taller than ever, drawing strength from the frozen environment. Garrett’s grip on Volcan was steady. Dillon’s Cloud Serpent shivered on his shoulders, but held.
Kuro moved a few paces from the party, testing the ice. ’The floor is slick but stable. The pillars provide cover. The mist obscures the ceiling—enemies could drop from above.’
"Noted," Nathan said. "Standard formation. Let’s see what this Tower has."
The Frost Wisps materialized from the mist.
They were pale, translucent shapes—humanoid torsos with elongated arms, their lower bodies trailing into nothing. They drifted through the pillars without sound, their movements slow and hypnotic. The cold intensified wherever they passed, frost spiderwebbing across the ice floor.
Nathan’s [Hunter’s Insight] flared. "Contacts. Twelve, spreading. They’re herding us."
Mirko moved with [Impenetrable Fortress] and slid forward, the barrier catching the first wave of Wisps and holding them back. They pressed against the green mana, their icy touch spreading frost across its surface. Elise’s [Mana Bolts] streaked through the gaps, detonating among the Wisps and shattering their cores. Dillon’s [Quick Draw] severed two Wisps before they could coalesce.
Garrett’s Volcan erupted. The thermal pulse from the mace’s head melted a Wisp on impact, steam hissing where volcanic heat met frozen form. Red stood beside him, wool armored against the cold.
Nathan’s [Mana Arrows] dropped the Frost Wisps one after another, each shot bursting a glowing core before the creatures could close the distance.
It wasn’t enough.
More drifted out of the swirling mist, replacing the ones he’d just destroyed. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the swarm herded the party toward the center of the throne room.
Nathan’s eyes narrowed.
"They’re not acting on instinct," he said. "Something’s controlling them."
At the far end of the chamber, an immense throne carved from solid ice stood atop a raised dais.
Seated upon it was the Throne Guardian.
Until now, it hadn’t moved.
The towering construct rose in complete silence, frozen armor grinding against itself as it straightened to its full height. It drew a massive sword of crystallized ice, its blade longer than Mirko was tall, glowing with a pale blue radiance that chilled the air around it.
Two ancient, star-like eyes settled on the party.
"Floor boss on Floor 1?" Dillon asked.
"No," Elise said quietly. "A mini-boss. The Throne Guardian. We need to reach it before the Wisps overwhelm us."
Nathan gave a quick nod.
"Then we make our own opening."
His eyes locked onto the Throne Guardian.
"Mirko, Elise—push straight through! Garrett, keep the flanks secure with Red! Dillon, Kuro—stay mobile. Keep the Wisps off us and don’t let them regroup."
He raised Moonlight.
"We’re going for the Guardian."
The party surged toward the throne. Mirko and the Frost Golem led the charge—the Knight’s blade carving through Wisps, the Golem’s frozen fists shattering them. Garrett and Red anchored the flanks, Volcan’s thermal pulses melting any Wisp that tried to encircle them. Dillon’s katana flashed in silver arcs, [Thunder Edge] crackling along the blade, and Kuro moved through the shadows like a ghost, her daggers finding Wisp cores with surgical precision.
Nathan fired Moonlight, and a Wisp shattered. He fired again. And again. Each shot punched through icy cores and cleared the path.
The Throne Guardian stepped down from its throne. Its frozen blade swept the air, and the temperature in the chamber dropped sharply. Frost spread across the ice floor in a radial wave.
"Brace yourselves," Nathan warned. "It’s coming."
The Throne Guardian moved.
One moment it stood at the foot of the throne. The next, it was charging, its massive ice-forged blade carving a trail of frost through the air.
Mirko stepped in to meet it.
[Impenetrable Fortress].
Her shield caught the descending strike head-on.
The collision echoed through the throne room like a cathedral bell, sending cracks racing across the frozen floor. Frost exploded around them, but Mirko held her ground.
The rest of the party moved into position without a word.
The Guardian slowly drew its sword back, pale blue eyes sweeping over each of them before settling on Nathan.
Then it raised the blade again.
The real fight had begun.