Prise listened as the sound of the Snow King disappeared. She poked her head out from behind the wagon. It was moving in the opposite direction of her—where was it going?

She waited several seconds before standing to her full height and tilting her head. Something should’ve happened. Was this part of some plan to kill it?

Figures appeared in the woods. The Otherworlders. And they were dragging bodies with them. There weren’t any visible injuries, but no amount of healing magic could heal the internal stress created by a bad injury.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She cleared space in the wagon, then turned and waved them over. “In here! Put them in here!”

The injured were carefully passed to the back of the wagon. Prise grabbed some blankets and put them over the wounded. She turned her head to the ragged group of Otherworlders.

“We need to get back to town, they’re going to need somewhere warm if they want a chance of recovery,” she said.

Her words seemed to snap Charles out of something and he nodded.

“Right.” He turned around. “We’ll be marching hard, everyone! We need to get these people back safe!”

A little bit of light came back to the eyes of the Otherwrodlers. They set off at a light jog. The horse that Prise had bought was sturdy. She hoped that he would hold out till they got back to town.

She looked through the group.

“Where’s One-Eye?” she asked one of the Otherworlders.

The Otherworlder averted his eyes.

A sinking feeling entered Prise’s gut.

“Where is he? Did he die?” she said.

The Otherworlder didn’t answer.

Prise’s breath hitched. The Otherworlder didn’t meet her eyes.

“Answer me!” she said, stepping forward, her hand gripping the man’s sleeve. “Where is he?”

The Otherworlder swallowed, his face pale. “He... he led the Snow King away. Said he’d be fine.”

“And?”

“He didn’t come back.”

Without another word, she spun and marched toward the back of the wagon. Her hands trembled as she grabbed a spare bag from the supplies. She shoved food, water, and blankets inside, not caring about the organization.

“Miss Prise?” Charles had spotted what she was doing and frowned. “What are you doing?”

She walked back toward the forest. Back toward the Snow King. “I’m going after him.”

“Are you insane?” Charles hissed, grabbing her arm. “That thing—whatever it is now—will kill you!”

She jerked her arm free. “And what? Leave him out there?”

He stared at her. There were traces of guilt in his eyes, but not enough to convince him to stand up and do something.

She walked off.

----------------------------------------

Ezra woke up with pain flooding his body. He grunted and spat out a mouthful of blood that had built up in his cheek. He forced himself up and looked at the sky. It looked like he was out in the middle of nowhere, from what he could tell.

He opened up his system and stared at the map. It looked like the monster had exploded and sent him flying. The trek back to the city was going to be hellish.

Ezra tried to stand to his feet only to collapse back down. He growled and poked his right leg. Pain flooded up his spine and tears came to his eyes.

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He’d broken it.

Ezra looked around. Snow everywhere. This wasn’t the best time for him to have a serious injury.

He looked at his leg. Would [Weave Flesh] work with bone?

Ezra focused on the injury and activated the ability. He held back a cry as he felt his bones click back into place. For a few seconds, he lay on the ground, unable to move. After a while, he managed to stand up, avoiding putting pressure on his leg. He wasn’t sure if his threads would hold up.

The cold wind bit into his skin. He grimaced but set the pain aside to locate a stick. The bark dug into his sensitive hands as he used it to support his weak side.

Then he started walking. After only a few minutes, he was exhausted and had to stop. He rested for a bit, then stood up and continued walking. Once again, he could only go for a few minutes before he collapsed to the ground.

The Snow King’s attack seemed to have done an enormous amount of damage to his body. He needed rest. Not something he could get easily.

He still had access to his skills and abilities. Could he somehow use them to get around? Maybe he could set up a sled and pull himself using [Thread Manipulation]? But how would he set up the sled? It would need to be comfortable and secure so that he wouldn’t drop off.

Even if he built it, would it help that much? He’d still run out of mana quickly.

He shook his head. He needed a plan, and he needed one soon before he just dropped over dead from exhaustion.

He stared around in a circle before he nodded his head. Sled it was. He looked around for a tree and mentally caused Filamenta to appear. He passed her through the wood and activated [Bind]. He passed [Bind] through the air, creating a sled, perfectly shaped for him thanks to his abilities.

Ezra moved himself forward and tossed himself onto the sled like a sack of potatoes. After a second, he activated [Thread Manipulation] and pulled his sled forward.

It was slow, grinding work. His sled moved forward in a jerky motion, irritating his leg. After half an hour or so, he ran out of mana and had to get it filled back up.

Even though he wasn’t physically moving, he could feel exhaustion building up. Just being in the cold while injured was enough to wear away at him.

A twig crunched. His back straightened and his eyes narrowed. He looked around himself in a circle.

A figure caught his attention.

“O-One-Eye!?”

Prise had appeared.

----------------------------------------

Ezra blinked, unsure if what he was seeing was reality.

“Prise?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

Prise didn’t answer immediately. She dropped to her knees beside him, eyes scanning his battered body. Her hands hovered over him as if trying to figure out what to do, before finally gripping the side of the sled.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“And you shouldn’t be out in the middle of nowhere with half your bones broken.” She reached into her belt and pulled out a potion. “What the hell happened?”

“Bad luck. The Snow King had some kind of defense around its core and it blew me out of the water.”

She poured the potion over his broken leg. He winced and jammed his eyes shut.

“Why would you do this to yourself?” she said.

“Thought I could get it for myself and take all the levels.”

And maybe the Dark Seal.

“Right.” Her tone was sharp. “You’re telling me you faced off against the Snow King alone, not to protect the rest of us, but for some selfish reason? Did you save Toria for the same reason?”

“Yeah. It’s useful to have a city in your pocket.”

“Bullshit.”

Ezra blinked. She was so heated over this. Why?

He let out a dry chuckle, leaning back against the sled. “What? You think I’m some kind of hero? I’m not doing this for anyone else.”

“I don’t buy it.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “It really doesn’t matter to me what you think.”

She poured a few drops of a different potion over his leg.

Ezra shifted uncomfortably in the sled, biting back a groan as the liquid seeped into his wounds. The tension between him and Prise was as thick as the snow around them. He didn’t want to think about the last time they were this close—when she'd nearly killed him. And now here she was, acting like she was concerned.

Prise tightened her grip on the sled, her knuckles going white. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” Ezra muttered.

She shook her head, but didn’t say anything for a long moment. The cold wind picked up, whistling through the trees.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, almost fragile. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Ezra stared at her, the words settling uncomfortably in his chest. “I’m not lying.”

Prise’s gaze hardened.

“I tried to kill you once, remember?” she said.

The words “But you spared me,” went unsaid.

He frowned.

“You don’t have to pretend to be some heartless bastard. I know the truth,” she said.

Ezra's jaw clenched. "Yeah, I remember," he said. “But guess what? I don't need you to save me. I’m not going to be a tool to appease your guilt.”

Prise’s face twisted in pain, but she didn’t back down. “I’m trying to make things right, Ezra!”

“Make things right?” Ezra let out a short laugh. “You think dragging me out of the snow is going to change what you tried to do?”

“I don’t know!” Her voice cracked. “But I had to try. I couldn’t leave you out here.”

Ezra looked away. “You should’ve left me behind, like the others.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Ezra wanted to argue, wanted to push her away. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not when he could barely stand on his own.

“Fine,” he muttered, exhaustion finally overtaking him. “But don’t think this means I forgive you.”

Prise nodded, her face somber. “I know.”

He turned his head away. She grabbed the rope of the sled and pulled.

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