"Hongdao, I have personal matters to attend to. I advise you not to get in my way."
Shimotsuki's voice carried an undeniable authority, one that could not be ignored.
Yet, beside her, Yoren felt a sense of unease settle deep in his gut. He had just learned from Frost Moon that the man who had suddenly appeared was called Hongdao.
Red Blade.
Damn it—it was him! The Red Blade!
Yoren's mind reeled. He never expected to see this legend in the flesh. No one knew Red Blade's terrifying exploits better than he did.
Memories flooded his mind—his first time challenging Lungmen 400. He had just reached level 30, nervous but excited. It had started well enough. His little angel, Cross, held her ground on the central platform, cutting down enemies with ease. Jessica and Liskarm provided support from behind, and Beagle, assigned to the front lines, was so relaxed she might as well have been napping.
Then they appeared—a group of gangsters wielding long knives, charging forward with reckless abandon.
But among them, one stood apart.
A man who did not move.
He stood there, motionless, as though frozen in time. His scarf was red.
At first, Yoren had dismissed him as just another enemy—perhaps even a bugged-out unit stuck at the edge of the screen. He had laughed, thinking, I'll finish off 399 enemies, then drop in a Rosmontis to clean up this last straggler.
Everything had gone smoothly. The Avengers had been mowed down like wheat in a storm. Yoren had leaned back, propped his phone up, casually sipping his soda as he watched his inevitable victory unfold.
Then it happened.
The motionless man moved.
Yoren had barely glanced at the screen, smirking to himself. Oh, so you've finally decided to play? Too late, buddy. Your lackeys are all dead. If you can break through my defense alone, I'll eat my damn phone.
The fight commenced. The Red Blade stopped at the choke point, confronted by Myrtle. The other operators swarmed in, their attacks raining down like a storm of steel.
For a moment, it seemed like an easy win.
Then the long sword in his hand blazed with crimson fire.
Yoren's smirk vanished.
Swish!
Beagle's health plummeted.
Swish!
Operator Myrtle has withdrawn from the battlefield.
Reserve Operator Gummy deployed!
Swish!
Gummy's health bar dropped to critical.
Swish!
Operator Gummy has withdrawn from the battlefield!
What the hell?! What are you afraid of?! If you're in a hurry to die, come at me! No need to wait in line!
Operator Durin deployed!
Swish!
Operator Durin has withdrawn from the battlefield!
And just like that, despite being pummeled by ranged operators from every direction, Red Blade—with a single sliver of health left—swaggered into the Blue Exit, unchallenged.
Yoren had stared at his screen in horror.
Then, in a burst of rage, he had slammed his soda can onto the table, shouting, What the hell was that?!
That was Red Blade.
Now, standing before him in real life, Yoren felt both awe and fear. The memories of that fight had left an indelible scar in his mind. And yet, another realization struck him—
Red Blade's actual name was Hongdao.
Well... it sounded cool enough, he supposed.
The snow fell softly in the darkened streets. As Hongdao approached, Yoren instinctively stepped in front of Snowsant, shielding her with his body. He didn't need to ask—Hongdao was definitely a member of the infected organization Heisen.
The infamous swordsman halted, his gaze cold and assessing.
"Shimotsuki, why are you with these people? They don't look like members of the Black Forest."
Frost Moon stood her ground, her expression unreadable. "I have questions for this young man. Hongdao, this is none of your business. Do not interfere."
Hongdao's gaze flickered toward Yoren and Snowsant. His voice was devoid of warmth. "The girl is infected, but this man is not. Frost Moon, our mission is to eliminate and assimilate all ordinary people in Mandel City. Dark Crow made it clear—any potential risk to the plan must be eradicated. Surely, you haven't forgotten that."
"I haven't forgotten," Frost Moon said evenly, "but I cannot let him die here."
Hongdao's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"He knows about my daughter."
"Your daughter is dead. Killed by ordinary people like him."
"Frost Nova is not dead."
A flicker of something unreadable crossed Hongdao's face. "It seems you've been deceived by his lies. Allow me to rid you of these illusions."
As he spoke, Hongdao's hand moved, resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.
Yoren's blood ran cold.
He's going to kill me.
There was no negotiation, no deliberation. Hongdao was not someone to sit down and talk things through. He was a silent executioner, swift and precise.
Then, in the blink of an eye—
Swish!
Hongdao vanished, his sword already unsheathed.
Too fast.
Far, far too fast.
Yoren barely had time to flinch before the attack was upon him. His instincts screamed, but his body was frozen in place.
There was nothing he could do.
He clenched his eyes shut, bracing for death—
Clang!
The sound of metal striking metal rang through the cold air.
Yoren's eyes flew open.
Frost Moon stood before him, her ice sword intercepting the fiery blade. She didn't even glance at him—her full focus was on the opponent before her.
"I said," she repeated coldly, "he cannot die here."
Hongdao's voice was quiet, dangerous. "Frost Moon, have you forgotten your identity? You are infected. Every ounce of pain you have suffered has been at the hands of ordinary people like him."
Frost Moon did not waver. "I have not forgotten. But he cannot die. Not yet. He has not told me where Frost Nova is."
Hongdao's eyes gleamed in the darkness. Without warning, flames erupted from his sword, licking hungrily at the ice blade. The frozen steel began to crack, melting under the sheer heat.
"Go!" Frost Moon shouted over her shoulder. "Now! And don't die."
Yoren didn't hesitate. He grabbed Snowsant's arm and bolted.
"Come on!"
They sprinted through the ruins, heading toward the city's heart. Snowflakes blurred their vision, the sounds of battle fading behind them.
At the last turn, Yoren glanced back one final time.
Frost Moon stood firm, her ice blade shimmering in the dim light, holding back a monster of fire and steel.
And in that moment, Yoren finally understood what Kal'tsit had meant.
The stronger you are, the more fragile you become.
Such was the law of all things.
With Shuangyue's help, Yoren pulled Snowsant along, moving cautiously toward the main urban area.
He kept the power bank's light low, hugging the edges of the streets as they advanced. Snowsant, walking beside him, finally broke the silence.
"So you really came from another world. No wonder you always say things I don't understand."
She had been quiet throughout his conversation with Shuangyue, but she had heard everything.
Yoren glanced at her in surprise. "You actually believe I'm a time traveler?"
"I believe it."
"Doesn't it sound completely ridiculous to you?"
Snowsant shrugged. "It's not that strange. This world is full of weird things. What's one more?"
Yoren had no response to that.
Apparently, her ability to accept the absurd was just as strong as his own.
Snowflakes drifted down, swirling in the frigid wind like tiny white butterflies.
Yoren had no idea what season it was supposed to be here. It had snowed every night since he arrived in Ursus, and Mandel City was close to Kjerag. Maybe this place was just cursed to be frozen year-round.
He led Snowsant through District E and into the northern part of the city, growing increasingly wary.
Two days and one night had passed since their arrival. In addition to the infected organization [Hessen], other forces—besides the Ursus military—had likely infiltrated Mandel City.
Whether it was other factions or more infected, a direct confrontation would be suicide. His only chance of survival was to stay hidden until he reunited with Vina and the others.
Sensing his tension, Snowsant spoke softly.
"Brother Yoren, don't worry. If we run into danger, I can protect you."
Yoren scoffed. "Oh yeah? How? Are you going to stuff me in your backpack?"
"No, no."
Snowsant shook her head, explaining seriously. "My Absolute Domain is small, but it should be able to cover you if I hold you tightly. It'll take longer to activate, and the defense won't be as strong, but you'd be inside it too."
Yoren considered it.
As a last resort, it could work. If they were attacked with no way to escape, Snowsant could activate Absolute Domain before the enemy struck. At the very least, she wouldn't die immediately.
But there were risks.
If their attackers used fire or poison gas, the Absolute Domain wouldn't help much. And if someone like Hong Dao or Shuangyue attacked, Snowsant probably wouldn't even have time to activate it.
No. He had to be careful. He wasn't going to drag anyone else down with his weakness.
From the moment he arrived in Terra, Yoren had gone from confusion to slow adaptation. This was his reality now. He had made his choice, and no matter how much hardship he faced, he wouldn't regret it.
Mandel City had been one endless nightmare. Ore disease, the infected, Big Bob, Red Blade, Hessen—it was as if the world itself was throwing challenge after challenge at him, shoving terrifying and deadly obstacles in his face.
It was almost comical.
If Terra were a person, it was a cruel, sadistic bastard.
A veteran player familiar with every faction. A time traveler capable of changing history. That sounded like a protagonist's setup, right? The world should be revolving around him, the script leading him to a grand destiny.
And yet, here he was, trudging through a filthy, freezing wasteland, lost in the dark, with nothing but a half-dead power bank to light his way.
Patience. That's all he could do now—endure.
Survival came first.
But if fate ever gave him a chance to turn the tables, he swore he would rip every single feather off Dark Crow's head and turn that bastard into a bald pigeon.
—
Two hours later.
Yoren stood at a crossroads, holding Snowsant's small hand. He had to face an unpleasant truth.
They were lost.
The only source of light was the dim glow of his power bank. After circling the area multiple times, he had lost all sense of direction.
Worse, Snowsant was just as hopeless at navigation as he was.
Then, from somewhere nearby, a loud commotion broke the silence.
Voices. Many voices.
Then came the unmistakable clash of weapons, followed by bursts of gunfire.
Yoren tugged Snowsant forward, creeping toward the noise.
Peering around a corner, he spotted a chaotic skirmish. Several groups of people, all dressed differently, were locked in brutal combat. Weapons flashed, fists flew, and bodies slammed into the cold pavement. The street was littered with makeshift light sources, illuminating the scene in flickering chaos.
"Hey! Ha!"
"Take this!"
"Oh, shit!"
"I'm gonna kill you!"
Shouts and curses filled the air as fighters clashed. Yoren crouched low, carefully observing. He didn't recognize any of them. They weren't from the Glasgow Gang or the Death Squad.
This was something else entirely.
It seemed that more factions had entered Mandel City, likely caught off guard by the infected just like he had been. Or maybe this was just a turf war over Originium.
Yoren didn't know.
And he didn't care. As long as Vina and the others weren't involved, these people could kill each other for all he cared.
He pulled Snowsant away, slipping back into the darkness. More distant fights echoed through the city. The number of people in Mandel City was increasing.
For the rest of the night, Yoren scoured the urban landscape, dodging conflicts while desperately searching for Vina and the others.
He had no idea how long he had been running, but eventually, dawn began to break.
He and Snowsant were exhausted. But as the light crept over the horizon, they finally found it—the central bridge leading to the southern district.
Yoren peered around the edge of a broken wall, scanning the bridge and its surroundings. If there were enemies waiting in ambush, he needed to see them first.
His power bank was dead. What he really needed right now was an 8x scope.
Then, without warning, something struck him from behind.
"Ow!"
Yoren stumbled forward, nearly smashing his face into a wooden crate.
Enemy attack?!
His body tensed, instincts kicking in. Ignoring the pain, he spun around, ready to fight.
A scarred face came into view.
Indra.
Relief flooded his chest. "Indra—"
"Damn it, where the hell were you yesterday?!"
"I—"
He barely got a word out before Indra grabbed him by the collar, cutting him off.
Her expression was serious. Urgent.
"The inhibitor. Do you still have it?"
Yoren's stomach dropped. A sinking dread coiled in his gut.
"It's on me. Why?"
Indra's grip tightened. Her voice was sharp, urgent.
"Get it out. Now. One of us has been infected with oripathy."