Chapter 32
Jayden had already calculated the risks the moment he laid eyes on the Fire Dragon Stone. There was no way something that valuable would be unguarded—no chance an ancient array would just lie dormant. He even prepared for the worst-case scenario: the blue door bursting open and a horde of ice golems charging in. But none of that scared him. His mind had mapped out dozens of escape routes, contingencies, and reactions. He was ready for all of it.
What he wasn't ready for—what his calculations never accounted for—was her.
Standing before him was a girl, seemingly his age, yet radiating an overwhelming presence. Her long white hair flowed like winter wind, and her glowing white eyes shimmered with unearthly power. She was unnaturally beautiful, ethereal even, but Jayden didn't have time to admire her—his brain was screaming at him.
> New Quest Received: SURVIVE.
His breath hitched. That single word said everything. "Survive" meant one thing: he was completely outmatched.
Jayden tensed, ready to bolt at the first sign of hostility. He expected her to declare war, unleash chaos, or speak in riddles like some ancient guardian. But instead—
"Where is my father?" she asked.
Jayden blinked.
"Where is my mother?"
Her voice was soft, but there was something wrong with it. Cold. Detached. Like a glacier that had learned to speak. She looked around the massive chamber as if returning to a place long lost.
Jayden looked left, then right. No one else was here.
"...Wait. Are you asking me?" he said, completely blank-faced.
Her gaze sharpened. "Yes. Where are my parents?"
The temperature dropped instantly. Frost began to form on the nearby walls.
Jayden's mind was chaos. He'd been running from death for hours, dodging ice golems, and now this deranged girl shows up and starts interrogating him like a missing child report?!
He tried to steady his breathing. She was still staring, waiting for an answer he didn't have.
Maybe she's reasonable, he hoped. Maybe we can talk this out and not kill each other. But deep down, he knew he was lying to himself. If it came to a fight, he was going to die not her.
"I really don't know where your parents are," Jayden said cautiously.
"Liar. Liar. LIAR!" the girl suddenly shouted. Her tone turned sharp and furious as she pointed at the Fire Dragon Stone in his hand.
"How could you not know?! You're holding his treasured artifact!"
Jayden's heart skipped a beat. Shit. I'm so done.
He was the one who took the Fire Dragon Stone—to get stronger, to escape death, to survive. But now? It had brought him face-to-face with a living nightmare.
"Fucking system," he muttered under his breath. If it hadn't told me this stone would boost my fire techniques, none of this would've happened!
"You still refuse to talk, intruder?!" the girl snapped. "Then I'll make you!"
She raised a single finger. A glint of light—then a condensed ice pin shot toward him with terrifying speed.
Thanks to his activated Sharingan, Jayden barely saw it in time. He thrust forward a Rasengan—
But the results were devastating.
The ice pin shattered his Rasengan like it was nothing and pierced clean through his hand.
> -15 HP. 130/200 HP remaining.
Jayden staggered back, his hand bleeding, pain shooting up his arm. She hadn't even moved. Hadn't flinched.
This wasn't just a power gap. This was a chasm.
His survival instinct kicked in hard. He turned and sprinted toward the massive blue door. He'd rather fight the ice golems—at least he might survive that. But just as he neared the door—
Whoosh.
A swirling sound from behind. He leapt aside just in time—
BOOM.
A compact white orb slammed into the door behind him, and a thick wall of ice instantly spread across its surface, sealing his only exit shut.
Jayden stared in horror.
"No, no, no..."
He threw himself at the door, twin Rasengan blazing.
"RASENGAN BARRAGE!"
He smashed them into the ice—
But there wasn't even a scratch.
He stumbled back, hopelessness crawling in.
"Just what plane is she on?" Jayden thought grimly, his breath ragged, heart pounding. This girl… might be even more terrifying than Blake.
He chuckled bitterly, almost on the verge of madness. What kind of cursed luck is this? First, a death duel with the faction's craziest fighter in two weeks—and now, standing before him was a flawless beauty with the power of a natural disaster, eyes void of mercy, and enough ice to freeze hell twice over.
For a split second, the idea of giving up crossed his mind. Why fight… when there's no hope of winning?
But then—Lolly's face flashed in his mind. Her tear-streaked cheeks. Her innocent smile.
His fingers clenched.
"No," he muttered, eyes burning with defiance. "I have a reason to live."
In a blur of motion, he weaved through a rapid sequence of hand seals. Poof! Eight shadow clones burst to life beside him, fanning out with synchronized precision.
"Attack!" Jayden commanded.
Each clone launched a high-level elemental technique:
One clapped its hands, summoning a spiraling flame tornado that roared across the icy terrain like a wildfire serpent.
Another clone slammed the ground, creating a jagged forest of earthen spikes, hurtling toward the girl like the jaws of the planet itself.
A third clone raised its hands and conjured a monstrous water dragon, which coiled and crashed forward with a tidal fury.
The fourth summoned a bolt of lightning that cracked like judgment from the heavens, seeking to pierce through her heart.
A fifth clone spun a wild vortex of razor-sharp winds, creating a slicing hurricane that would shred through steel.
The remaining clones launched supporting mid-tier jutsu—streaming fireballs, mud bullets, and electric chains to chain her movements.
Jayden stood behind them all, breathing heavily but with hope in his eyes. The room lit up in a beautiful, destructive dance of elements.
And yet… she didn't flinch.
The girl raised her head slightly and whispered.
"Chilling Frost."
In a heartbeat, silence consumed the chaos. A wave of frost burst from her body like a god's exhale. The fire died. Lightning froze mid-strike. The water dragon stiffened and shattered. Winds were caught in crystal air. Even the earth spikes stopped moving, iced over instantly.
Jayden's clones screamed as they froze solid, turned into glassy sculptures. One by one, they crumbled to pieces as she walked through them, each step echoing like a drumbeat of doom.
The real Jayden, far behind, gulped. His mouth ran dry. Total domination. She didn't even try.
Still—he wouldn't quit. Not yet.
He focused his energy and bellowed:
First Gate: Gate of Opening,Open.
Second Gate: Gate of Healing,Open.
Third Gate: Gate of Life,Open.
Fourth Gate: Gate of Pain,Open.
Blue veins bulged across his skin, his chakra exploded, and his speed multiplied. A whirlwind whipped around him as his aura flared. This was the Fourth Gate, the current limit of what he could handle without destroying his own body.
He darted forward, his fists trembling with compressed energy. But before he could even reach her—
She raised one palm.
From above, an enormous ice palm materialized, slamming down with divine force.
BOOM!!
Jayden was sent crashing through the crystalline walls, his bones rattling as he bounced and slid across the icy floor. The system echoed in his mind.
> -35 HP | 95/200 HP remaining
He groaned, blood trickling down his forehead. Just one hit… that much damage? If I hadn't boosted my HP recently, I'd be dead already.
He looked up—and saw her.
She walked toward him with calm elegance, each step as graceful as a snowflake… and as merciless as a blizzard. Her face was blank, but her presence screamed power. She stopped a few meters away.
Maybe… maybe she'll spare me?
But no. She conjured a massive ice blade, its surface shimmering with trapped souls of the cold.
Jayden twitched. So she's ending me instead…
Unwilling to die cowering, he pushed himself up, grabbing an ice sword from an ice sculpture beside him. He held it shakily, ready for a hopeless final stand.
But then—something changed.
She wasn't looking at him anymore.
Her gaze had drifted to the sculpture beside him… and then to the ice blade in his hand.
Her eyes widened, and her brows furrowed, confusion and grief flashing across her face. She whispered, voice trembling:
"...Father?"
Her hand trembled. And then— a memory struck.
---
Flashback—Years Ago.
A dark cavern. A man in a black cloak with red jaw-covering mask stood at its center, chains erupting from his body. At the other end—a black-haired girl, no older than sixteen, bound and paralyzed.
Across from him, a tall man with piercing blue eyes stepped forward, standing beside a beautiful woman.
"What do you want, Philix?" the man snarled. "We've tolerated your wretched clan for years. We've honored the pact, despite your crimes. But you… you dare kill our tribesmen and come here for my daughter?"
His voice was thunderous now. Around him, other members of the Ice Tribe began to shift.
Black hair turned snow-white. Calm eyes became icy blue. Bodies shimmered with transformation.
One elder's back hunched as white fur coated his arms, his fingers becoming clawed and his legs bulging with muscle—partial yeti transformation.
Others followed:
One transformed into a Frost Hawk hybrid, wings forming from his back.
Another grew crystalline scales and claws—an Ice Serpent Warden.
A third gained the glowing fur and elongated ears of a Snow Elf Tiger.
A fourth's skin became transparent ice—Crystal Warden Form.
The last grew antlers and a flowing white mane—Glacial Deer Aspect.
And others who aren't transformer uses their elemental abilities.
The room became a frozen realm, temperature plummeting. The air grew heavy with compressed ice energy.
And yet… Philix stood there, untouched, unbothered.
"Fran," Philix sneered, his voice laced with contempt, "you know you don't stand a chance. If the Ruining Flame truly descends upon your people, your entire tribe will be reduced to frost-bitten ashes. And yet, here you are… still resisting."
He motioned to the chained girl behind him—the princess. "Your daughter is a bane to our clan. Ever since her birth, our powers have weakened. Our powerful flame flickers, and even our god is enraged by her existence. She must be sacrificed... to quench the Flame God's wrath."
His words were like venom. Fran's face twisted with fury.
"You dare call my daughter a curse?!" he roared, surging forward.
Steel met frost in a blinding clash. Fran's icy blade collided with the intruder's metallic arm, for the enemy—Philix—was manipulating metal with the fluidity of water. With one hand, he parried Fran's vicious blows. With the other, he fended off a barrage of tribal warriors charging to rescue the princess.
The sheer power he exuded was terrifying.
The battle raged on, ice against steel, tribe against invader. Eventually, a figure was hurled through the air and slammed into the icy walls—Fran.
Blood spilled from the deep gash across his chest, dripping from the corners of his mouth. He tried to stand, staggering. Philix, though injured, looked far less affected.
"Give up," Philix said cockily, "none of you can defeat me."
But he was bluffing. Deep inside, he feared one—only one—who had the potential to destroy him: the princess. That was why he had injected her with powerful paralytic poison, suppressing her overwhelming powers.
The Ice Queen, standing at the edge of despair, searched for a way—any way—to turn the tide. Without hesitation, she charged toward her chained daughter. Philix tried to intercept her, but Fran and the other elders leapt in, holding him back with all they had.
"I'm sorry, Mother," the chained girl whispered. "All of this… it's because I exist."
"No!" the Queen cried. "You are not a curse. You are my blessing—and a gift to the entire tribe. You are our hope."
"But look at them…" she replied, staring at the fallen tribesmen, ice and blood surrounding them.
"They fell to evil, not because of you," her mother said, gesturing to Philix, still holding his ground against ten elite warriors.
Tears welled in the princess's eyes, but her mother's voice turned firm again.
"I know the Magnazite Chains are unbreakable unless one reaches the Superior Planes… but you are different. You carry the direct bloodline of the Ice God himself. You alone can do what none of us can. Channel your spiritual energy. Freeze those damned chains!"
The girl gritted her teeth. Energy surged through her veins as she focused. At first—nothing. Again—still nothing. But then… a flicker. A thin layer of frost began to spread along the metal.
"You're doing it, daughter! Just a little more!" the queen cried, her voice filled with hope and desperation. The chains around the princess rattled as a thin layer of frost crept slowly along their surface. Her breath trembled as she pushed every ounce of spiritual energy through her limbs, her skin glowing with an icy hue.
The princess looked up at her mother—and for a brief moment, they smiled.
But then… the queen's smile wavered.
"You… can…" she tried to speak again, but blood bubbled at her lips and streamed down her chin. A sharp gasp escaped the princess as she watched her mother collapse, eyes wide with horror.
"Mother!" she cried, the word breaking from her throat like a wail of agony.
As the queen fell limp, a silver dagger gleamed from her abdomen. It slid out with a slick sound—and into the waiting hand of Philix.
"She talked too much," Philix sneered, the sinister scar running across his left eye twitching with malicious delight. "Such a waste of breath."
The world shattered.
"You… You… YOU!" the princess's scream shook the chamber as her grief detonated into fury. Her black hair turned pure white in an instant. Her irises shifted from black to blue, then vanished altogether, leaving only glowing, hollow-white eyes. The Magnazite chains around her began to tremble violently, then froze over in a matter of seconds—before exploding into shimmering shards.
Philix stepped back, panic rising. This… this is what he had tried to prevent.
The air warped around her. Snow howled through the chamber.
Philix threw his dagger again, desperate to stop her awakening. But it froze mid-air—then the chain attached to it froze, crawling backward and capturing Philix's left arm.
His eyes widened. "No…"
In a panic, he severed his own arm with his metal blade, then bolted out of the chamber. He didn't look back.
None of the Ice Tribe members chased him.
Because they had a far greater threat now… standing right in front of them.
The last time the princess had lost control, nearly half the Ice City had been frozen solid. Over 40% of their population died.
And now… it was happening again.
Fran, wounded and staggering, raced toward the sacred vault. He pulled out a glowing, fiery-red stone.
"Draw the array!" he roared.
The remaining warriors scrambled to carve the arcane sigils, each one glowing faintly as it neared completion.
But they were too close. The cold was too immense.
As the array neared its end—one by one—they froze into statues of ice, their final breaths etched on their faces.
The princess—no, the unleashed goddess—stood at the center of a storm, her grief and fury forming a blizzard that would be remembered for generations.
Fran clenched his jaw, anguish breaking across his face as he saw his people fall. Yet, there was no time to grieve. He leapt into the center of the circle, slammed the Fire Dragon Core into the ground, and roared, "Activate"
The array blazed red. Instead of warming the air, it pulled in the rampant frost energy, forming a barrier that slowly began to stabilize the princess. But it wasn't enough. Even those more attuned to ice were beginning to succumb to the cold.
"Everyone, leave this place! Now!" Fran bellowed.
But no one moved.
"We will not abandon you, my king!" one of the soldiers shouted.
"We are Ice Tribe—we die as one!" came the rallying cry.
Fran's eyes welled with tears as he watched his people stand tall, even in death. "Thank you," he whispered, voice raw. "I'm… truly grateful and I'm sorry ."
A single tear slid down his face, freezing before it could fall. He stood beside the growing storm, watching his people—his kin—turn to statues of sorrow and resolve.
Then a voice, trembling and young, pierced the cold.
"King… why has the Lord forsaken us?"
A boy no older than fifteen stood beside his frozen father.
Fran knelt, brushing frost from the boy's cheek. "The Lord hasn't forsaken us. He always sends help… I'm the one at fault for not holding on still the help arrives."
Minutes later,
BOOM!
The massive blue doors burst open, slammed by an unseen force.
Two figures stepped inside. One wore twin crimson gauntlets, his black hair tousled from the wind. The other wielded a massive black-and-green blade strapped to his back, his brown hair tousled and eyes glowing with a strange, unnatural green—with obsidian plus signs embedded in them.
"Fran! Are you alright?" the one with the red gauntlets shouted.
Fran, now nearly encased in ice, gave a chuckle. "Crane… Arcnus. So… the Lord did send you. Took your sweet time, though."
"We'll get you out," Crane said, rushing forward.
"No," Fran said, his voice barely audible. "My wife is gone. My daughter… not stable. I no longer have the will to go on."
"Shut up!" Crane snapped, his voice cracking. "Don't you dare say that!"
Fran's eyes softened. "Crane… I've always tried to reach your level… to catch up to you. But now… I know I never will....Sorry for not being so helpful during the ongoing war."
"SHUT UP! You're surviving this!"
"Crane," Fran said louder now, eyes locking with his friend. "Remember the favor you owe me?"
Crane froze. His fists trembled. "Yes… I remember."
"Good. I feared your tiny brain would forget," Fran laughed weakly.
"I want you to build it," Fran said, his voice trembling as the frost crept higher, reaching his jaw. "The faction we dreamed of… Create it here, in the Ice City. With your strength, you can bend the climate—make it your own. But more than that… guard this chamber. Guard my daughter. She's all that remains of the ice tribes."
Fran eyes narrowed a bit, a bitter smile breaking through. "You wanted to name it the Sacred Faction, right?"
Crane's lips quivered, a painful smile breaking through as his eyes burned with unshed tears. "You still get it wrong, silly Fran. It was never the Sacred Faction."
Fran's frozen eyes glimmered with the final light of life. "Oh?"
"It's the Scarlet Faction," Crane whispered, voice cracking with emotion.
A faint, satisfied grin pulled at Fran's lips—his last breath a whisper of peace. "Good…"
And with that final smile, King Fran froze completely—his expression peaceful, eyes locked on the floating sphere above, where his daughter was.
He died… a king.
He died… a father.
But more than anything…
He died with hope.
To be continued.