Chapter 2985: The Great Frosling Migration - IV

Date: Unspecified

Time: Unspecified

Location: Myriad Realms, Dark Realm, Gelid Alps, Snow Elven Region, Frosell District, Frosnow City

"Your Highness, the masses have been informed and we are prepared to start the orderly mass exodus at your signal," the Chieftain burst into the chamber, his voice hurried, his expression incredibly stern.

This was the final, defining step of our plan. If a single thing went wrong now, centuries of waiting, the secret memory sharing, and the massive resource investments would all have been for nothing. The tension in his posture was obvious. He looked like a string stretched so tight it was on the verge of snapping.

"Good. Let’s begin now," I said flatly.

I stood up from the heavy stone chair, the cold indifference in my voice acting as a grounding anchor against the Chieftain’s frantic energy. With a single thought, I recalled the Primordial Ethereal Spirit Clones back. Their forms dissolved into mist where they stood and snapping back into my soul space seamlessly.

I walked out of the chamber, past the heavy arches of the city hall, and stepped out into the biting cold air of Frosnow City. Without a second’s hesitation, I kicked off the ground and flew straight into the sky, hovering high above the trade hub.

Looking down, the sheer density of the festival crowds was staggering. Streets were packed to the brim with Froslings, the colorful decorations of the celebration masking the underlying, synchronized movement of a race preparing to vanish.

Turning to the Chieftain, Moon Fright, and the elite Frosling of the Frosnow city who flew up to trail behind me, I issued my final, absolute order.

"Just focus on teleporting every last one of the Froslings in the city. Leave the rest to me."

The Chieftain saluted, his face hardened into iron resolution. "By your will, Your Highness Frosage!"

Below us, the first faint, geometric lines of the modified realm-crossing mass teleportation arrays began to bleed a pale, celestial light through the snow-covered streets. The magic trick had officially begun, and it was my job to ensure the Snow Elves didn’t interrupt the performance.

Yes, this array formation had been meticulously designed for camouflage, but right now, there was absolutely nothing stealthy about what was happening.

The harsh reality of high-tier array mechanics was absolute: it was simply impossible to teleport an entire race from one realm to another without causing a massive, violent spatial disturbance. The sheer volume of mass and soul energy tearing through the planar fabric was bound to light up the Snow Elves’ tracking array networks like a flare in the night sky.

But we had already accounted for this bottleneck. That was precisely why we had constructed a highly complex, interconnected network of arrays across all thirty-seven cities spanning the entire Frosell District.

The strategy behind this design was to scatter the spatial feedback entirely. By firing up dozens of nodes simultaneously, the spatial distortion would bleed across the entire district map at once, creating a massive, blinding static field for the Elven Capital’s long-range observation arrays.

The Snow Elves would know a mass teleportation was happening, but they wouldn’t be able to pin down exactly where the primary teleportation hubs were from afar, effectively preventing them from targeting our people with long-range, high-tier energy bombardment or artillery.

If they wanted to stop this exodus, they wouldn’t be able to do it comfortably from their high towers. They would be forced to deploy their forces, march directly into the cities, and face me and my bloodkins.

Hovering in the sky, I watched the pale circuitry of the arrays flare brighter beneath the snow, vibrating in perfect harmony across the horizon. The atmospheric pressure began to drop rapidly as the space around Frosnow City started to warp.

A sharp, violent ripple of energy suddenly tore through the clouds from the direction of the Elven Capital. The sirens were undoubtedly blaring over there. Their response force was mobilizing.

I cracked my knuckles, a dark, expectant hum vibrating through my hybrid physiology as my sixty-four crimson-eyed bloodkins also took position in their respective cities.

While the arrays were pulsing to life and the tribal leaders were frantically moving through the crowds—informing the stunned masses that the entire race was migrating in the next few hours and to leave everything behind—Sansa finally hit pay dirt. Digging through the freshly updated web of memories across the city, she uncovered exactly how the Snow Elves had been keeping tabs on the district all these centuries.

It wasn’t a hidden slave brand, a cognitive curse, or a high-tier artifact. It was the local Snow Spirits.

These tiny, ambient elemental creatures drifted seamlessly through the Frosell District. For generations, the Froslings had foolishly believed these spirits to be their friends, treating them like gentle companions and a natural part of their frozen ecosystem. In reality, they were the Snow Elves’ premier eyes and ears in the Frosell District.

With this revelation, the puzzle pieces clicked into place. I finally understood why the Snow Elves could so boldly claim the entire Gelid Alps as their unassailable territory. It also explained why every single attempt by the Frosling leadership to plant a Frosling double agent beside the Snow Elven had failed so spectacularly over the millennia. When you have an invisible, omnipresent army of nature spirits watching every snowflake fall, why would you ever need to play clumsy political games or plant physical spies?

The moment Sansa passed the data through the Hive Spirit, I relayed a sharp warning to the Chieftain and the tribal heads.

Realizing the depth of the betrayal, the Frosling leadership acted instantly, deploying subtle energy barriers and localized heat wards to quietly draw the ambient Snow Spirits away from the staging grounds. A collective shudder went through the high command. They were incredibly lucky that they hadn’t completely underestimated these creatures; out of sheer habit, they had always barred any external entity from their absolute inner sanctums. Had they allowed the spirits into their deepest chambers, treating them as harmless extensions of nature, the entire plan would have been dead on arrival.

They praised themselves for their innate paranoia, thanking whatever gods they had left that they had kept the spirits away during tonight’s secret meetings and missions. Otherwise, this day would never have been possible. The Snow Elves would have erased the current Frosling leadership long ago and replaced it with one that suited their agenda.

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