The path back to the village was steeped in silence, save for the crunch of snow beneath their boots. Jae-Hyun walked ahead, his posture stiff and his breaths still uneven, while Ahri trailed a few paces behind, her expression dark with unspoken frustration. Neither of them seemed willing to break the icy quiet.
As they neared the edge of the forest, a flicker of light drew Jae-Hyun’s attention. The system interface materialized before him without warning, and his eyes scanned the notifications:
System Notification: Level Up: 11! Level Up: 12! Level Up: 13! Level Up: 14!
His jaw tightened as he absorbed the information. Each level felt hollow, a reminder of the brutal cost of his survival. He dismissed the notifications with a flick of his hand, his frustration only deepening.
"How long was I gone?" he asked abruptly, his tone clipped.
Ahri looked up sharply, caught off guard by the sudden question. "What does it matter?" she replied, her voice colder than she intended. "Barely an hour."
Jae-Hyun stopped in his tracks, his brows furrowing as he processed her words. "An hour? Are you sure it wasn't a whole day?" The rift’s horrors replayed in his mind: the endless cold, the relentless battles, the Frost Revenant Prime. It hadn’t been just an hour to him. A grim thought crossed his mind, the pieces falling into place. Time moved differently inside the rift. One day in there for every hour out here—that’s what it felt like. It made sense, in a cruel, twisted way.
"Well, it wasn’t," she snapped, crossing her arms. "And maybe if you’d actually talk instead of sulking, I’d understand what’s got you so wound up."
His expression darkened, and he turned away without another word, resuming his pace toward the village. Ahri let out a sharp breath, muttering under her breath as she followed. The tension between them hung heavy, each of them simmering in their own thoughts as the village gates came into view. "You disappeared into that thing, and... it was barely sixty minutes before you stumbled back out."
Jae-Hyun’s brows furrowed, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade. "An hour?" he muttered, the words tasting foreign on his tongue. "It felt like a day—no, longer." His gaze dropped to the frozen ground, his mind replaying the rift’s horrors: the endless cold, the relentless battles, the Frost Revenant Prime.
Ahri took a cautious step closer, her eyes scanning his battered form. "What happened in there, Jae-Hyun? What did you see?"
"It doesn’t matter," he replied curtly, straightening himself and brushing past her. "None of it does."
"It clearly matters," she shot back, her tone firm. "You’re shaken"
Jae-Hyun stopped, his shoulders tense, but he didn’t turn to face her. "Time moves differently in there," he said after a moment, his voice quieter, almost distant. "Every second felt like an eternity. I fought, I bled, and I survived because of luck. Not strength, not skill. Just blind luck."
Ahri frowned, her concern deepening. "And you hate that, don’t you? That it wasn’t something you earned."
His silence was answer enough.
The village around them was coming to life as the sun climbed higher into the sky. Villagers moved about their tasks, their wary glances frequently darting toward Jae-Hyun as if he were some foreign specter. He ignored them, his focus entirely on the thoughts swirling in his head.
Ahri walked beside him, her pace measured to match his uneven steps. "You’re stronger than you think," she said softly. "Luck might have played a part, but it’s not the only reason you came back alive."
Jae-Hyun gave a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. "I don’t need you to sugarcoat it for me, Ahri. I know exactly how close I was to dying in there. If luck had turned even slightly, I wouldn’t be here now."
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"But you are here," she pressed. "And that means something."
He stopped suddenly, turning to face her. "Does it?" he asked, his voice sharp enough to cut. "Because all I feel is that it wasn’t enough."
Ahri met his gaze, her eyes steady despite the storm brewing in his. "Then make it enough," she said simply. "Use it. Grow stronger. Don’t waste this chance." She gestured toward the villagers in the distance. "Because whether you see it or not, there are people who need you. People who are counting on you."
Jae-Hyun stared at her for a long moment before finally exhaling, the tension in his shoulders loosening just slightly. "You sound like you know what you’re talking about."
"Maybe I do," she replied with a faint smile. "Or maybe I just know you well enough to see what you’re trying to hide."
Jae-Hyun stepped through the village gates with heavy strides, his body still aching from the trials within the rift. The sun was high now, casting warm light over the fortified streets, but it did little to melt the frost that seemed to cling to him. Villagers turned their heads as he passed, their eyes filled with a mix of fear, unease, and perhaps even a trace of admiration. Whispers followed in his wake, voices hushed but pointed:
"Did you see him? He looks like he’s been to the grave and back."
"Stay away from him. Nothing good follows a man like that."
"Or maybe he’s exactly what we need."
Jae-Hyun paid them no mind, his focus set solely on reaching the small hut Elder Hyun had provided. Before he could make it far, the elder himself appeared, leaning heavily on his cane. His sharp eyes scanned Jae-Hyun, taking in the blood-streaked armor and his unsteady gait. "You look like you’ve been through hell," Elder Hyun said, his voice gravelly but tinged with concern. "What happened out there?"
Jae-Hyun stopped briefly, his expression unreadable as his gaze flicked toward the elder. "Nothing I couldn’t handle," he replied curtly, his tone cold enough to discourage further questions. He kept the truth buried, the system and its power his own secret to bear. Trusting others with such knowledge could mean exposing himself to risks he wasn’t willing to take.
Elder Hyun’s brows knit together, his concern deepening. "You’re hiding something," he said, leaning forward slightly. "This village—these people—they deserve to know if there’s danger."
Jae-Hyun’s jaw tightened, his patience clearly waning. "There’s nothing to worry about," he said flatly, stepping around the elder without breaking stride. "I handled it. That’s all you need to know."
Elder Hyun watched him go, his expression troubled, but he did not press further. Jae-Hyun disappeared into the distance, his steps steady despite the weight he carried.
Once inside the hut, Jae-Hyun collapsed onto the narrow cot in the corner. The moment his body hit the thin mattress, exhaustion washed over him like a wave, but his mind refused to rest. The events of the rift replayed in his thoughts, each detail sharp and vivid: the Frost Revenant Prime, the relentless cold, the shattering realization of how close he had come to death.
He sat up abruptly, pulling the satchel from his side. The Fractured Crown of Ice seemed to hum faintly as he withdrew it, its surface shimmering with an otherworldly light. As his fingers brushed its cold surface, a faint pulse of energy resonated through him, sending a shiver down his spine. For a brief moment, it almost felt alive, as though the relic itself was aware of his presence. For a moment, he simply stared at it, his mind racing.
[Fractured Crown of Ice]
* Type: Mythic Relic
* Effect: Reduces damage from all elemental attacks by 30%. Increases mana regeneration by 50%. Grants access to "Frozen Dominion," a temporary area-wide freezing effect.
Jae-Hyun’s eyes narrowed as he reread the description. The relic was powerful, no question about it. But its presence raised more questions than it answered. What exactly are rifts? And why do they exist? Was it meant to test him? Trap him? Or something else entirely?
He set the crown aside, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His hands clenched into fists as a single thought consumed him: he needed to grow stronger. This wasn’t enough. Surviving by luck, relying on chance—it wasn’t enough. If he wanted to uncover the truth, if he wanted to protect himself and those who mattered, he couldn’t allow himself to remain this weak.
Jae-Hyun stood, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as resolve hardened in his chest. His current training regimen wasn’t enough. If he wanted to face whatever forces had placed the Frost Revenant Prime in that rift, he needed to be unrelenting.
"I’ll double it," he muttered to himself, pacing the small room. "Double the runs, the drills, the mana control exercises. I’ll rebuild myself from the ground up if I have to."
He glanced at the faint glow of the relic, its enigmatic presence serving as a reminder of how far he still had to go. The thought fueled his determination.
The system interface flickered into view as if responding to his determination. The Daily Training Quest notification reappeared, the tasks unchanged, but now they felt inadequate. Jae-Hyun dismissed the interface with a sharp motion, his lips pressing into a thin line.
"Tomorrow," he murmured, "it starts. No shortcuts, no excuses."
His gaze lingered on the crown one last time before setting it aside. The weight of exhaustion pulled at him, and he knew he needed rest. He stripped off his battered armor with slow, deliberate movements, revealing the bruises and cuts that lined his body. Fetching a small basin of water, he cleaned his wounds as best he could, the sting of cold water biting into his skin but doing little to distract his restless mind.
Finally, Jae-Hyun lay down on the cot, the rough mattress doing little to comfort his aching muscles. His eyes closed, but his thoughts refused to quiet. Visions of the rift, the Frost Revenant Prime, and the relic flashed behind his eyelids. Still, sleep crept in, heavy and inevitable, wrapping him in its embrace as his body surrendered to the exhaustion.