“Damn it… you idiot,” David cursed.
How could he fall this stupidly?
His fists clenched. This was humiliating. No, it was worse—infuriating.
Wind howled past his ears, a deafening roar as gravity seized him. The endless sea of clouds rushed up to meet him, their ghostly tendrils curling around his body like a silent embrace.
For a fleeting moment, the world became weightless, suspended between sky and abyss.
Then, he broke through.
The dense mist parted, revealing the vast, hidden expanse below—a realm of frozen spires, jagged cliffs, and ancient ice formations sculpted by time itself.
The sheer scale of it was breathtaking, but there was no time to admire. The ground was rushing toward him, fast and unforgiving.
▪ ▪ ▪ FIGURE OUT HOW TO CONTROL YOUR FALL BEFORE THE GROUND DOES IT FOR YOU ▪ ▪ ▪
A window appeared before him as he plummeted hard.
In my moment of desperation, you chose to say this? How considerate.
David twisted midair, arms flailing as he fought for control. Panic surged, but instinct took over—he braced himself, searching for anything to slow his descent.
Something shimmered below—a thick bank of snow, soft yet deceptive in its depth. It was his only chance.
With a desperate shift, he angled toward it, hoping—praying—that it would break his fall instead of burying him alive.
The ground rushed toward him, an endless expanse of white, smooth as untouched silk. Desperation clawed at his chest. He ripped the thick cover from his shoulders, grasping two ends in each hand, forcing it into a makeshift parachute.
It barely helped.
The fall slowed—just a fraction—but even a fraction mattered.
His pulse thundered in his ears as his body tensed, bracing for impact. His eyes squeezed shut on instinct.
Whoosh!
The snow gave way beneath him as he plunged deep into it.
Silence followed.
For a moment, everything was still. The cold wrapped around him like a coffin, the weight of the snow pressing in from all sides.
The ground was flawless—pure and untouched, as white as milk. Not a single imperfection marred its beauty.
Except for the crater where David had crashed.
A heartbeat later—
BAAM!
A surge of darkness erupted from beneath, propelling him skyward. He burst free, soaring a few meters before slamming down—half-buried once more.
His head poked out of the snow like some furious creature, eyes dark with irritation. If anyone had seen his expression at that moment, they’d think he was ready to murder the entire world.
This time, he moved with more care. He had learned his lesson.
The snow wasn’t just an obstacle—it was the reason he was still breathing.
Soft. Treacherous. Savior. Unforgiving.
He tested his steps, adjusting to its fickle nature, sinking at first but slowly getting the hang of it. By the time he could walk properly, his face was set in a permanent scowl.
Grumbling under his breath, he willed the system to appear.
"Show me my stats," he muttered, trudging forward into the unknown.
STATUS
HP : ▰▰▰▰▱ ¹⁶⁹
DEFENSE : ▰▰▱▱▱ ⁸⁷
MANA : ▰▰▰▰▰ ¹⁹⁶
That made sense—a slight slowdown with the cover, a fall onto the ice, and damage reduced by his defense. The combination had been the key to survival.
David clenched his fists, his breath curling in the cold air. He was still pissed. "I hope you at least act like a human. You act like a damn robot—no feelings, no empathy."
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A system window flickered to life in front of him.
▪ ▪ ▪ ARE YOU BEHAVING THIS WAY BECAUSE I TRIED TO WARN YOU ▪ ▪ ▪
"That wasn’t a warning! That was scaring someone who's already scared! Damn it! Fall from the skies yourself, then you'll understand!"
▪ ▪ ▪ THE SYSTEM DID NOT REALIZE THAT ▪ ▪ ▪
"Of course you didn’t," David snapped. His frustration only grew.
▪ ▪ ▪ I CAN ADJUST MY HUMOR SETTINGS TO BETTER MATCH YOUR PREFERENCES ▪ ▪ ▪
David raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Alright, crank it up to 25% and let’s see what you come up with."
A pause. Then—
▪ ▪ ▪ MENTALLY PREPARE YOURSELF FOR IMPACT PAIN IS INEVITABLE BUT PANIC IS OPTIONAL ▪ ▪ ▪
David stared at the floating text. "…Yeah, no. That’s not helping much."
The cold had begun to seep into his bones, biting deep, but it was the loneliness that crept in like an old ghost. He was used to it. With or without the group, he would survive.
Still, anything was better than silence. "Alright, fine. Try 35%. That should—"
Woosh!
Before he could finish, the snow swallowed him once again—like quicksand, only faster.
He barely had time to react before he was yanked forward, spinning wildly. The ice turned into a slide, twisting and curving as it sent him careening down.
"Not again—!"
Round and round he went, the world a blur of white and blue. Then, just as suddenly as it started, the ride ended—violently. The ice spat him out, launching him straight into the mouth of a cavern.
With a final thud, he crashed against the frozen ground.
Silence.
David groaned, lying on his back, staring at the icicle-covered ceiling. "…Yeah. Definitely still pissed."
***
The wind howled across the cliff’s edge, carrying away the last traces of David’s fall. A thick silence settled over the group, broken only by the crunch of boots against frostbitten ground.
“He’s done for,” a voice muttered.
The captain turned, his sharp gaze locking onto the speaker. “I hear you,” he said, his tone unreadable. “But he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who dies that easily.”
He adjusted his grip on his sword and looked toward the distance where the land sloped downward into a nothingness. “Time will tell.”
Without another word, he led the group forward.
The terrain sloped steeply, jagged ridges of ice protruding like frozen teeth. The path ahead was treacherous, slick with unseen layers of frost, forcing the group to tread carefully.
Their breaths misted in the frigid air, disappearing into the abyss below.
Minutes passed in silence until the passage widened into an open ledge, where a dark maw yawned before them—a cave, its entrance carved into the icy rock like a wound in the mountain.
The walls shimmered faintly, coated in layers of frost that refracted the dim light from their torches, casting eerie specters onto the ceiling.
The captain took a cautious step forward, eyes scanning the entrance. “We'll continue from this point,” he said. “Stay alert.”
The group moved in. Inside, the cave was vast, its ceiling arching high above like the ribcage of some long-dead beast. Stalactites of pure ice hung from above, and the floor was uneven, frozen over in a treacherous sheet of black ice.
Occasional drips echoed in the silence, the sound amplified in the cavernous space.
Deeper in, the walls began to glisten with an unnatural sheen, as if something had crawled along them, leaving behind a thin, icy residue. The air grew colder—wrongly so. It wasn’t just the natural chill of the cave. It was something else.
The captain halted. His fingers tightened around his sword. “Something’s here.”
A hiss echoed from the darkness.
Then, the ice moved.
A shape peeled away from the cavern wall, its body blending seamlessly with the frost. It was massive—long and sinuous like a centipede, but its body was encased in jagged ice.
Multiple clawed legs clattered against the frozen floor as it moved with unnatural speed. Its face was a twisted, insectoid horror, mandibles lined with frozen shards that looked sharp enough to tear through steel.
"Adult Rimecrawler," the captain warned.
Its eyes—cold, empty voids—locked onto the group. Then, it lunged.
The first attack was brutal. A swipe of its many legs shattered the ice beneath it, sending razor-sharp shards flying. The group scattered, barely avoiding the hail of frozen death.
Ezra raised his shield just in time, the ice bouncing off with a loud clang.
The captain moved first. He didn’t hesitate.
With a burst of speed, he dashed forward, blade flashing as he aimed for its legs. His sword cleaved through the ice coating the creature’s limb, but it was thick—too thick to cut cleanly.
The creature recoiled, shrieking, its frozen exoskeleton cracking but holding firm.
“It’s armored!” someone shouted.
The Rimecrawler retaliated, its tail lashing out. The captain ducked, the attack barely missing his head. He spun, his blade slashing upward—this time aiming for the joints between the ice plating.
The steel bit into flesh, and a thick, frost-blue liquid sprayed onto the ground, instantly freezing on contact.
The creature screeched, its many legs scrambling backward.
Ezra charged from the side, slamming his shield into its body. It reeled, but the ice covering it grew thicker, regenerating over the damaged sections.
“It’s healing itself!”
Another member, Cain, drew his daggers, weaving between the beast’s swipes. He moved with precision, slashing at the gaps the captain had opened.
But even as he struck, frost spread across his blades, slowing his movements.
The captain didn’t waver. He saw the pattern—how the ice regenerated, how the creature moved. He didn’t need his powers. He needed speed.
His sword flashed, striking before the ice could reform. Every movement was fluid, relentless. The Rimecrawler shrieked, its attempts at healing undone by the sheer velocity of his attacks.
Each strike was measured, cutting away at its joints, slicing through tendons and plating before it could recover.
The others kept up the assault—Ezra using his shield to block its wild strikes, Cain targeting weak points—but it was the captain’s unrelenting speed that overwhelmed the beast.
With a final dash, he leaped onto its back, driving his sword deep into its neck. The Rimecrawler spasmed, its body convulsing before it collapsed, its icy form cracking apart.
Silence fell.
Then, a shuddering breath.
The captain yanked his blade free and stepped back. “Not bad,” he muttered, flicking the frozen blood from his sword.
Ezra exhaled heavily. “Remind me not to fight those things without fire next time.”
Cain chuckled, sheathing his daggers. “If there’s a next time.”
The cave was silent again, save for the slow drip of melting ice.
The captain glanced toward the deeper tunnels ahead. The fight was over. But the path forward remained unknown.
And David was still out there—somewhere.
“Let’s move,” he ordered.
They pressed on into the dark.