How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game - Chapter 687: Frozen Trials
Chapter 687: Frozen Trials
When the light finally settled, Snow slowly opened her eyes.
A faint frown formed on her face.
Snow and frigid winds assaulted her from every direction, so thick and violent that visibility was reduced to almost nothing.
The world around her was swallowed by white—an endless expanse of swirling frost.
Beneath her boots, the snowy ground rose in uneven drifts, piling higher and higher as if the land itself were being buried in real time.
“Where… am I?”
Her voice was immediately stolen by the wind.
And more troubling—
Why is it so cold?
For the first time in her life, the chill bit into her skin.
Snow had always possessed a natural affinity with cold. Ice, frost, winter—these had never been her enemies.
She had stood in blizzards without flinching, summoned glaciers from nothing, and walked through frozen wastelands as though they were temperate fields.
She had never once felt cold.
On the rare occasions she had, it was only due to mana exhaustion—when she pushed her magic beyond its limits with high-tier or unique spells. Even then, the sensation had been fleeting.
But this—
This cold was different.
It cut into her, not as temperature, but as presence.
Even an ordinary snowstorm of this magnitude should not have affected her in the slightest… yet here she was, her breath visible, her skin prickling beneath her coat.
Snow narrowed her eyes, forcing herself to remain calm as she assessed her surroundings.
No landmarks.
No walls.
No ceiling.
Just endless white and roaring wind.
“…So this is it,” she murmured. “The trial.”
Riley had warned her—once she stepped inside, she would likely be on her own. Whatever awaited her here wasn’t meant to be overcome with brute force alone.
Shhh—!!!
Bluish-pale mana surged from her core, wrapping around her body like a protective veil.
The frost-laced aura pulsed gently, pushing back against the foreign cold encroaching on her skin.
The biting chill lessened immediately.
Good.
She hadn’t lost control over her mana. Nor had her affinity been sealed or suppressed.
Which meant this place wasn’t rejecting her power—
It was testing it.
Even so, the fact remained.
This cold wasn’t hers.
Snow looked out into the blinding storm, her grip tightening around her wand as her thoughts raced.
“…What should I do now?”
The wind howled in response, as if the frozen world itself were waiting for her answer.
Normally, dungeons that trapped their intruders within trials fell into specific categories.
Subjugation-type dungeons, where survival itself was the test.
Floor-type dungeons, structured layers each demanding conquest.
Boss-type dungeons, where everything existed to prepare challengers for a single absolute confrontation.
Though classifications could vary, trial-type dungeons shared one unchanging truth—
Their trials were never random.
They were designed.
Designed by an absolute being residing within the dungeon: a dungeon core, a ruler, a creator… or a boss whose will shaped the laws inside.
And the fact that they were not impossible to clear.
Snow understood this well.
And because of that, she also understood something else.
This dungeon—this trial—was connected to her.
The frozen castle etched deep within her soul.
The horrifying dream she could never fully forget.
That other version of herself, standing upon an endless throne of ice.
It all pointed to the same conclusion.
If I had to name this place…
“…The Frozen Castle Dungeon,” she whispered.
The words felt oddly natural as they left her lips, as if the dungeon itself acknowledged them.
If this truly was a test meant for her, then it wasn’t strange that the challenge differed from ordinary dungeons.
Still, even knowing that, she had expected monsters—something tangible she could confront.
But this?
An endless storm.
No path.
No enemy.
No direction.
This trial was already proving far more difficult than she had anticipated.
With no clues to guide her, Snow tightened her white coat around herself and pulled her hood over her head.
Her breath fogged the air as her blue eyes glimmered sharply beneath the shadow of the hood.
Her mana began to flow outward—controlled, deliberate.
If there was no direction given to her…
Then she would find one herself.
Letting out a soft, steady sigh, Snow steadied her breathing.
Fear and uncertainty were pushed aside, replaced by calm resolve.
I move forward.
Unbeknownst to her, at the very moment her mana spread outward—
The snow beneath her feet shimmered.
The raging cold eased, ever so slightly.
And the storm around her seemed to pause, as if the frozen world itself were waiting… for her command.
….
The first test was Authority.
Authority was not merely power.
It was the right to rule.
An absolute dominion that governed the laws of the world itself—laws that could manifest as natural phenomena, abstract constructs, or even concepts so subjective they defied common understanding.
Space.
Time.
Fate.
Cold.
Death.
And many more.
Each Authority existed as a fundamental truth of reality, and to possess one meant becoming its embodiment.
Within the domain born of that Authority, its bearer did not command power—
They were the law.
Only those of ascended existence could wield such forces. Gods and demons, naturally.
But also the ancient high races whose bloodlines brushed against the divine: elves, vampires, sea folk, dragons—beings whose existence had long surpassed mortal limits.
Once an Authority was claimed, its holder possessed absolute control over the concept bound to it.
That control could only be challenged by another who wielded the same Authority at a higher degree, or by a being whose Authority eclipsed it entirely.
And when one reached the zenith—the perfected, absolute state of an Authority—
No being in the universe could override it.
No denial.
No resistance.
No exception.
Such was the reason primordial gods stood beyond all others.
Like the primordial goddess Eris, whose Authority encompassed Light, Life, and Creation itself.
Her will shaped existence, and reality obeyed without question.
…
Within the frozen castle, far beyond mortal reach—
A woman with porcelain-white skin sat upon her throne of ice.
Her crystal-like eyes shimmered faintly, resembling falling snowflakes caught in moonlight.
Though her expression remained distant and apathetic, there was the faintest curve of amusement hidden beneath it.
The Frost Queen gazed into the distance.
She was not looking through walls, nor across space.
She was observing an unfolding truth.
Something none of her subordinates could perceive.
Something only one who ruled cold itself could recognize.
“…So this is how your Authority awakens,” she murmured softly.
Her voice carried no hostility.
Only interest.
Within the throne room of ice and silence—
Three figures knelt.
Monsters in form, yet far removed from the mindless beasts that roamed the frozen plains outside.
Each carried the weight of command, of countless lives bound to their will.
They were the three generals of the Frost Queen, and even they dared not raise their heads without permission.
The air was still.
Intruders had entered the dungeon.
Not only that—entire patrols had been erased.
The monsters nurtured and raised within the Queen’s domain, creatures that had taken decades of mana and time to form, were being slaughtered with frightening efficiency.
Yet no new orders had been given.
The Frost Queen remained silent.
No retaliation.
No mobilization.
No command for extermination.
That silence gnawed at the kneeling figures far more than any shouted decree.
They had been informed that certain outsiders—fanatics clad in black—had offered to handle the intruders.
A so-called temporary force that claimed devotion to an unknown god.
Trusting such beings was absurd.
Fanatics were tools at best and disasters at worst.
They lacked discipline, loyalty, and restraint.
None of the three generals believed for a moment that those madmen could stop the two humans who had entered the domain.
Humans—
And yet, not truly human.
From the reports alone, it was obvious: the intruders stood at a level where even the Queen’s generals could not act carelessly.
Power like that was not something numbers could overwhelm.
Sending waves of monsters would only feed the slaughter.
Among the three kneeling figures, Gallan, chieftain of the frost giants, clenched his massive fists.
To the Frost Queen, monsters were assets.
To Gallan, they were his people.
The frost giants were not born as mindless creatures.
Their ancestors once roamed the northern lands freely, ruling the frozen wilderness long before the dungeon existed.
They had built cities of ice, hunted and defeated dragons, and forced even human kingdoms to bow beneath winter’s might.
Those were not legends to Gallan.
They were memories carved into his blood.
His loyalty to the Frost Queen did not come from reverence or fear—it was born from ambition.
The Queen’s power had allowed his race to survive, to grow, to regain strength.
And one day—
To reclaim the north.
That dream burned fiercely in his chest, and watching his brethren die without retaliation twisted that fire into something dangerous.
Gallan’s loyalty had limits.
If the day came when choosing between the Frost Queen and the future of the frost giants became unavoidable—
He would not hesitate.
Even if that choice meant betrayal.
Gallan lifted his gaze toward the frozen throne.
High above, upon a seat carved from eternal ice, the White Queen rested in stillness—her presence so vast and suffocating that even breathing beneath it felt like an act of defiance.
The chieftain of the frost giants tightened his jaw.
He wanted to speak.
No—he needed to.
The intruders were not ordinary prey.
His kin were dying.
And yet they were ordered to wait.
Gallan drew in a breath, preparing to ask for permission to personally deal with the threat—
Shiiishhh~
Something soft yet unyielding brushed across his face.
A long, pale-white tail slid effortlessly over his mouth, silencing him before a single word could escape.
Though slim and elegant, the tail belonged to a being whose true form dwarfed even Gallan’s own.
Floating beside him in an almost playful imitation of kneeling was a woman with silver-white hair and eyes that gleamed with draconic amusement.
Anica.
The Frost Dragon.
In her polymorphed human form, she smiled brightly, one slender finger resting against her lips.
“Shh~” she whispered, her voice light and teasing. “Our Queen is rather busy right now… don’t ruin her focus.”
Gallan’s brows furrowed, but he did not resist. Slowly, once the tail withdrew, he spoke in a controlled, restrained tone.
“…I only wish to be granted permission.”
Anica tilted her head slightly, her smile never fading.
“You can ask later. Right now, Her Majesty has far more important matters at hand.”
Gallan’s fists clenched against the frozen floor.
“The intruders—”
“Oh, them?” Anica cut in smoothly, waving a hand dismissively.
She leaned sideways in midair, peering through the icy walls of the castle as though they weren’t there at all.
“One of them doesn’t seem interested in entering our castle,” she said casually.
Then her smile sharpened, eyes gleaming with predatory interest.
“And the other… is already being dealt with by our Queen.”
Her draconic gaze pierced far beyond the dungeon walls, tracking something unseen.
“So don’t worry too much, Gallan.”
Gallan did not respond.
But Anica noticed it immediately—the subtle tension in his posture, the restrained fury simmering beneath his disciplined silence.
Her smile thinned just a fraction.
“Keep your thoughts in check, Chieftain,”
she said lightly, though the warning beneath her words was unmistakable.
“Unless you want me to personally handle them for you.”
At that, Gallan finally shifted his gaze toward her.
For a brief moment, the weight of two ancient beings pressed against each other—giant and dragon, ambition and supremacy.
Then Gallan lowered his eyes.
“…As you wish.”
Silence reclaimed the throne room.
Anica watched him for a moment longer, her amusement flickering into mild curiosity.
Strange…
He’s usually far more composed than this.
But whatever impatience stirred within the frost giant, she chose not to dwell on it….
