This place… a grand hall?
The moment Snow was transported here, she felt it.
Second trial.
There was no need for a voice to announce it.
No glowing letters in the air.
The shift in atmosphere alone told her everything. The dungeon had moved her forward.
Trials inside dungeons always changed with each level.
The setting, the pressure, the rules — they twisted just enough to throw challengers off balance.
But beneath all of them, there was always something similar.
A core theme. A lesson hidden under the chaos.
The first trial had been a frozen wasteland.
A never-ending snowstorm.
Biting wind. White skies that erased direction and time. It made her believe the goal was survival.
Endure the cold. Find shelter.
Escape the storm.
But that wasn't the answer.
The answer had been her.
Her authority.
Her dominance over frost itself.
The wasteland wasn't her enemy. It was hers to command.
Now this…
This grand, luxurious hall was nothing like the first trial.
