The dream began to spin and twist. Her knees seemed like they couldn't hold up, but it didn't make sense to her. She leaned against a burning hut and leaned against an upright wooden fence.

Flames do nothing. That's not true.

A shadow covered her.

"I've been waiting for this day for a long time, witch!"

Unexpectedly, it was an Avarosa - a burly red-haired barbarian with bruises on his thick neck. He raised a slit greatsword above his head. The bloodlust in his eyes was revealed, and he was imagining a victory that he would never see in his life.

Either way, he's ready for the final blow to slay down an incomparable enemy.

Lisandro has lost count of the number of times she has died in other people's dreams. Each time, a part of her dissipates and never comes back.

No. That's enough. Not this time.

Giant crampons formed a shield to protect her, placing her in an ice coffin. The warrior's blade didn't even cut the ice off the surface. He staggered back, letting out a roar of unyielding defeat, and at the same time—

Wake him up and convince him that he is the hero who fought off the Frost Witch. It was just a dream...... The Avarosa clan will fall...... Just like the bad old woman that the name represents.

Lisandro had more serious concerns.

The eye of the storm is the most vicious in Freljord.

The wind is howling. Lightning. Every snowflake can scrape blood.

Lisandro found the beast walker who was channeling elemental rage. His state of concentration is very much like a dream—like a bridge between two worlds. The storm is a prayer that recites directly to the Lord of the Bearren Demigods.

Lisandro was disgusted. The hate-filled creature was one of the few most stubborn memories, and she was never able to purge them from Freljord's land, no matter how thorough, to resurrect them.

Thunder and lightning struck that shaman, again and again. His jaw stretched and elongated, turning into a massive mouth full of fangs. The nails darkened and turned into claws. It is neither a man nor a bear, but something completely different. Its whole life was like a dream. No sleep. There is no pleasure. Only storms. Lisandro strode forward, searching for anything to use in the tumbling frenzy.

Then the shaman's terrifying gaze suddenly fell on her, and she found herself facing the incarnation of Volibel himself.

Not daring to hesitate, Lisandro pulled up sharp ice spikes from the ground around her. She's going to hold this monster's limbs, and she can't let it—

Dark blood was sprinkled on the snow. Thunder rolls around the mountain peaks in the distance. The twisted shaman fell to his knees, his body torn apart, half of who he once was, and the other half what he could become. Seriously, it's a mercy because most of his consciousness is still his own.

Countless pairs of eyes twinkled in the storm. These shapeshifters are no longer the threat they once were. The fight with them can be put on hold.

For now, their madness was enough to help her achieve her goal.

Lisandro worriedly circled the watcher beneath the ice. She could see her tiny body just a piece of ice away from them. Her skin was as cold as a dead corpse and as white as fresh snow.

The monster barely noticed her coming. It's like some weird new life is crying.

In the watcher's dream, there is nothing but nothingness.

There are many more emptiness. There are many more emptiness. The distant horizon is empty, and the mountains on the horizon are empty. Above the void, the vault is nothing, and the dense clouds are empty.

In the face of all those emptiness, Lisandro struggled to maintain her ...... Exist.

The abyss around her opened its jaws. She saw the black sun devour her dream avatar, but no matter how much that giant mouth swallowed, there was always more to eat.

She screamed, shattered into dark pieces, and then split into billions of Lisandro, each screaming. In the emptiness of everything, their voices were not even whispers, but even that was enough to alarm the very foundation of this dream......

Her meager body twitched for the symbols on the Ice Barrier. It was an ancient spell, and the flame that gave birth to it had been extinguished for a long time. She crawled forward with convulsions and convulsions. Her movements were like a dying struggle, stiff and weak.

There was only a trace of her own spirit in her body.

Then, like a tidal wave, most of her self returned. She spat bitter water onto the ice, curled up and frozen in the middle.

Below the ice, the tumbling shadow slept again. It had devoured her for a little longer in the dream, which had brought them the only peace they longed for.

Peacefulness. Lisandro has never tasted tranquility. She couldn't be at peace anymore.

She got dressed and turned to climb the ancient steps. The Frostguard Clan awaits her leadership and guidance. She will not find peace in this life.

It's a small price, but it keeps the monsters asleep.

Balderdash.

Gnaw.

The wind whipped and the faces of the Iceborn orphans were already on the verge of bleeding. The tip of her nose had long since lost sensation, an hour ago, or two hours? It doesn't matter anymore. It didn't matter, because as soon as she closed her eyes, she would see the witch.

The setting sun never sets outlines the silhouette of the woman, riding a giant beast of frost, bones, and black magic, her robe as beautiful as the snow that has just fallen. Her eyes were covered by a horned hood, giving the impression that she was looking up at the stars.

Two chapped black lips opened lightly, revealing a terrible prophecy.

"Rez, I see you."

The Frost Witch's appearance in Reze's dreams is always exciting.

"The darkness is laughing," she continued, "and it says to me 'Frost and lies are tools for the end of the road.'" I clenched my hands into fists! I'm going to pull out that eye that watches everything! Stick it in the icy spear! Otherwise, the howls of the cold wind and the songs will only be sung to the crumbling abyss......"

In the time that Rez closed her eyes, her eyelashes were frozen. Now, it hurts to open your eyes if you want to break the ice. But she had to keep her eyes open. The longer you stick it, the harder it will be to tear it off.

She cried out, feeling the warm blood trickle down her cheeks. She picked up a piece of ice and exhaled a haze of mist, which she rubbed repeatedly until the ice reflected her reflection. The open wound in the corner of her eye wasn't too serious.

But in the mirror, she sees that she is not alone in this sheltered cave.

An emaciated man was shivering at the entrance of the cave, the blue light of the morning sun shining on his face. Reze then realizes that what is in front of her is not an illusion. The person's skin is blue and translucent. He was weak and stiff, as if he was trying to wake up his disobedient joints.

"Cold." The emaciated man said. "I knew it when I was dying on my back."

Reze jumped backwards with his hands and feet, distancing herself from him. "I don't have food." She shouted, cursing the fear in her voice. "There is no shelter from the wind. I don't have much to offer you. ”

The man tilted his head to the side.

"I'm not hungry. I don't need sheltered from the wind. I've seen this cave, I've seen you...... Just as her frost clouded my eyes. Our path is like two rivers that converge. I knew this when I was lying on my back and dying. ”

"So, you die often?"

"One time is enough."

"You ......," Reze hesitated, unsure for a moment whether she should say it or not. Have you seen that witch too? ”

"Nope. But I heard the witch's voice in my veins...... Every moment, every stiff and reviving heartbeat. ”

He held out a blackened hand to her.

"There are others, Iceborn's children. We have to go and see the others. We also had to accompany each other on many miles of trek. ”

"You knew all this when you were dying on your back?"

"Death brings many revelations, Iceborn child."

Reze slowly stood up. Still not letting down their vigilance. "Who are you?" She asked.

"I'm no one anymore. I'm just a passerby of this body. My name has been frozen, but you can call me ...... Uncle, and I should call you ......? ”

"Raiz, from the Narrowfoot Clan."

Come on, Reze, Iceborn of the Narrowfoot Clan. Others are not far off.

She didn't move. "Who are they?"

The spires of the Frostguard Fortress rise from the ice field. The magical aurora is a riot of colors, waves of green, pink, and blue dancing in the near-eternal night sky. The stars here are forever shining, shining through the coldest, cleanest air.

Almost no one knows how to find this hidden fortress. There are many people in this world who will gather an army and raze it to the ground. Those who do find it are few who return satisfied.

Even so, five tired figures walked along the rugged mountain road, through the hidden wounds of Freljord's most fundamental existence.

They're looking for the Frost Witch. Like so many others over the centuries, they had seen Lisandro in their dreams...... But each of them felt something strange in their hearts.

Beneath the ice. Some kind of darkness and emptiness.

Hunger.

Gnaw.