The frozen wind tore through the forest, slamming into William from every direction.
It cut straight through his hand and suit, stabbing his fingers with sharp, icy pain.
Each breath he exhaled turned into a puff of frost, while every inhale burned his lungs with freezing air.
William had been sent to the Frostland six hours earlier than scheduled—completely unprepared.
The biting cold finally snapped William out of his daze.
Shivering hard, he hugged himself, but the chill pressed through his clothes and skin like needles, crawling into his bones.
Panic set in. Without thinking, he did the one thing rookies were told never to do—he created a fire.
A small flame flickered to life, glowing weakly against the endless dark. It cast long shadows across the snow, marking his position like a beacon in the night.
"If I stay out here any longer, I'll freeze to death," William muttered, his voice trembling.
"Kyaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"
Before he could even react, a mournful, soul-shaking screech tore through the forest.
Every hair on his body stood up. William's eyes darted into the dark, searching through the swirling snow—but he saw nothing. The black forest beyond his firelight was empty.
Instinct screamed at him to run, yet his legs refused to move.
"Kyaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"
The screech came again—closer this time, sharper, angrier.
William's entire body froze. He couldn't even blink as his heart hammered in his chest.
Then, through the whirling snow, a shape emerged.
It floated above the ground—thin, twisted, and wrapped in tattered robes that whipped in the wind. Its pale blue skin clung to its bones like frozen leather. Dirty bandages covered its eyes, and its jaw hung open. Strands of white, dried hair clung to its head like old cobwebs.
A legless banshee.
It came gliding toward him, the air around it turning colder with every inch.
William's breath caught. Every muscle in his body screamed to move—but fear locked him in place.
Finally, through sheer will, he forced his arm to lift his sniper rifle and aim at the creature.
Before he could pull the trigger—
"Kyaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"
The scream hit like a hammer. His mind went blank. His whole body froze solid, his thoughts drowned in pure terror.
He couldn't move. He couldn't think. All he could do was watch as the banshee closed the distance.
It stopped right at the tip of his rifle, towering over him—eight feet tall, looming like a ghostly executioner.
It crawled slowly up the barrel, its bony fingers digging into the metal, until it reached his face.
Its cold claws clamped down on his shoulder, piercing through his coat and into his flesh. Its jaw stretched wider, as if to swallow him whole.
William's pupils shook violently. He tried to move, but his body refused to obey. The banshee's open mouth drew closer and closer—until his trembling finger finally twitched on the trigger.
The rifle fired.
The bullet tore clean through the banshee's chest, punching a hole through its spectral body.
The monster let out a distorted, painful wail as it recoiled, floating backward.
The moment the paralysis lifted, William acted on pure instinct.
He slammed his brown-glowing hand into the ground and raised a thick wall of dirt around himself.
He collapsed inside the earthen barrier, panting hard, blood dripping from his shoulder.
His heart raced uncontrollably. The banshee's screech still echoed in his head, mixing with the pain and cold, clouding his thoughts.
But this wasn't a training ground anymore. This was real. The monster outside wasn't going to wait for him to recover.
The wall shook slightly as another faint screech passed through it.
Fear gripped him again, but this time, his body held steady. He aimed his rifle toward the direction of the sound.
Moments later, the barrier began to tremble violently—the banshee had recovered and was clawing at the dirt wall.
William held his ground, forcing himself to think through the chaos. He poured mana into his ears, turning them a dull, lifeless gray.
The next second, the banshee's claws tore through the wall. It screamed again—but this time, William heard nothing.
Unfazed, he fired point-blank into its face.
The banshee's head snapped back as the shot punched clean through.
Before the smoke cleared, William ran.
The creature's body hit the ground, motionless—but only for a moment. The hole in its head closed within seconds, and it rose again, its glowing eyes searching the forest.
Sensing William's mana trail, it screeched and gave chase.
William sprinted through the snow, breathing hard, occasionally glancing back to track it visually—his hearing still sealed.
The banshee glided above the ground, moving three times faster than he.
William stopped, turned, and fired—but the banshee easily dodged, its reflexes far too sharp.
He summoned another dirt barrier around himself.
The banshee charged, smashing through it like paper.
But inside, instead of William, it found a human-sized hole—and a glowing orange circle carved into the ground.
Realizing too late it was a trap, the banshee tried to flee.
William burst from the ground behind it, hands glowing brown with mana. He raised another wall of stone, sealing the creature inside the barrier.
The magic circle flared bright.
Flames erupted outward, flooding the chamber and engulfing the banshee in fire.
It shrieked and writhed in agony, its high-pitched cries muffled by the roaring blaze.
William couldn't hear any of it—he focused solely on reinforcing the walls, keeping the fire trapped inside.
After ten long seconds, he canceled his hearing suppression spell and listened.
Silence.
He stopped reinforcing the wall, cast a stealth spell over himself, and slipped away into the dark.
He didn't dare to linger. The banshee's screams would've echoed far across the frostlands—drawing in more monsters.
Moments after he left, cracks spread through the dirt barrier, and the walls broke apart.
Inside lay the banshee—its body charred black, its flesh melted and fused with what remained of its tattered robes. The burned bandages revealed hollow eye sockets, glowing with swirling red light.
The swirling grew faster, brighter—rage burning behind them.
***
"Huff… huff… huff…"
William ran until his legs felt like lead. He finally stopped and slumped onto a thick tree branch, gasping for air.
His body was still cloaked in a faint shimmer of invisibility, but his frosted breath gave him away. Each exhale puffed out in the freezing air, hanging for a second before vanishing.
Normally, this kind of run wouldn't have tired him so badly. But out here, with the freezing wind cutting through his light gear, every breath burned, and every muscle stiffened. His limbs felt heavy and sluggish, his fingers barely responding.
He glanced at his hands. They were pale, trembling, and half-numb.
He wanted to light a fire badly. The thought of warmth was torture. But he also knew what that meant. The monsters in this frozen hell could sense even the smallest mana flare. One spark could bring a dozen of them.
William leaned against the trunk, shivering as snowflakes melted and refroze on his training suit. His mind echoed with a single desperate thought:
I need to find a way to warm up… now.
He had planned to grab proper winter gear from the old dwarf's warehouse before coming here, but things hadn't gone as planned.
Now, stuck in the open frostlands with only his thin training outfit, he had two choices—use magic and risk detection, or freeze to death.
His teeth chattered. The cold had frozen over his shoulder wound, but that was the only good news.
He gritted his teeth. "Screw it."
William's hand glowed brown as he pressed it against the ground. The frozen earth shifted and opened, letting him tunnel downward.
He dug deep—far enough to mask his presence, away from the spot where he started. Then, deep underground, he finally stopped.
He summoned small flames around him. The orange glow flickered off the dirt walls, and for the first time in hours, warmth seeped into his frozen fingers.
He sighed shakily as blood returned to his hands, feeling the pins and needles of thawing flesh. His rifle rested across his lap, ready, as he healed the torn wound on his shoulder.
It still ached, but the pain was dulled by the lingering cold. The frozen blood had sealed most of the bleeding already.
Minutes passed in silence. The warmth helped, and slowly, his heart rate began to settle.
Finally, William's thoughts drifted back to the reason he was even here.
He took out his training tag. The glowing letters shimmered faintly in the dim light.
[Task:]
Survive in the Frostlands for 100 days without being detected — 0 / 100
Kill 100 Glacier Rabbits from at least one mile away — 0 / 100
William exhaled sharply through his nose.
He could almost hear the old dwarf's gravelly voice mocking him: "It'll take more than a year, boy."
The reminder of what lay ahead hit hard. William curled up, burying his face into his knees as he tried to warm himself.
But before he could dwell on it, a chill raced down his spine. The air in the tunnel dropped several degrees in seconds.
Something's wrong.
The ground above him shook violently. Dust and snow rained from the ceiling.
William's instincts screamed. He immediately tunneled deeper and away from the shaking spot.
But the vibrations didn't follow him. They stayed in one place.
He stopped digging and listened. The rumbling continued—rhythmic, like heavy impacts.
Curiosity got the better of him. He climbed back toward the surface and emerged near the base of a tall tree.
Climbing silently up the trunk, William peered through the snowy branches.
What he saw made his stomach drop.
Two elite monsters.
A massive yeti, easily five feet tall at the shoulder, its white fur bristling with frost. It bellowed, shaking the snow from the surrounding trees.
Opposite it hovered a wraith—semi-transparent, humanoid in shape but rippling like smoke. The air around it shimmered with cold, freezing the snow mid-fall.
William crouched low, his breath held.
The two monsters stared each other down. The air between them crackled with power.
He knew better than to get involved in a fight between elites. He was about to leave—until a thought hit him.
Wait. I'm a sniper assassin. This… this is the perfect setup.
If he waited and let them weaken each other, he might even grab something valuable afterward. His gaze flicked to the yeti's thick fur.
'That hide… it could save me from freezing to death.'
Decision made, he cloaked himself again and stayed put.
But his situation was still bad. His thin outfit offered no real protection from the wind. Even invisible, the cold was eating him alive.
If he used fire magic again, he might get caught. But if he didn't, he'd freeze solid before the fight ended.
Before he could decide, the ground shook again. The yeti roared and slammed its fists into the earth, sending large chunks of debris flying through the forest.
One of them came straight for his tree.
William jumped, but debris smashed into him mid-air—rocks and ice slamming against his body. His stealth shimmered, flickering for a second.
"Damn it!" He gritted his teeth.
He hit the snow hard, rolled, and immediately sprinted away to a safer distance.
Finding another tall tree, he climbed to the top and settled into position. The cold bit at his face and hands, but he ignored it.
A distant away, the yeti and wraith clashed.
The yeti swung, hurling chunks of ice and snow. The wraith weaved through them, its movements smooth and silent, leaving trails of frost behind.
From his position on a distant tree branch, William stayed still. He watched the battle through his rifle's scope, breathing slowly, waiting for the right moment to act.
But with each passing second, the air grew colder. His limbs stiffened again, his breath turning to ice before it left his mouth.
His vision blurred slightly from the cold creeping in behind his eyes.
He tightened his grip on the rifle, forcing his focus to stay sharp.
He knew it clearly now—if he did get the Yeti's fur, the cold would kill him first before any monster did.