Anna and her father stepped into the weapon chamber, the heavy door closing behind them with a solid thud that echoed off the stone walls, the air carrying the sharp tang of polished steel and oiled wood.

The room sprawled large under the morning light filtering through narrow windows high above, its dark floor cool and smooth under their boots. Weapons lined the walls, swords, axes, and daggers hung in neat rows, their blades painted gleaming white, while crossbows, arrows, and spears leaned in the corner, tips sharp and casting faint shadows.

Bookshelves stood along one wall, packed with leather-bound tomes on weapon techniques and skills, their spines faded, a musty paper scent lingering.

He turned to her. Anna stayed silent, a small smile on her lips, a warm flicker of nostalgia in her chest.

He walked on toward a white bow with a silver string. "You know, your mother saw your fascination earlier than I. She said you've always wanted books about knights, hero stories. Every bedtime reading, you'd pick those."

He lifted the bow from the wall with a soft scrape, looked at her, and asked, "Anna, why is it you want to become a knight?"

Her heart thumped harder, eyes widening slightly in surprise, breath catching, she'd imagined this question, but here it was, raw and unexpected.

She had imagined her father asking that same question countless times, curious, genuinely listening to her words, but now, here it was, hanging in the air like an unexpected weight, catching her by surprise.

Her pulse raced in her ears, a rapid thrum that echoed the sudden warmth flushing her cheeks, as a tangle of emotions knotted in her chest: excitement mingled with a sharp pang of vulnerability

In the past, she could have poured out her thoughts, how she yearned to do much more than her station allowed, to wield power, to protect those she cared for, to master skills that thrilled her, but now, not a single word escaped her lips, her throat tightening like a drawn bowstring, leaving only silence in the chamber's cool, metallic-scented air.

Her father watched her, his blue eyes softening as he noted her gaze fixed on the dark floor, shadows pooling around their boots; his face etched with a flicker of understanding, lines deepening around his mouth.

"Listen," he said gently, his voice resonating off the stone walls, "I know you've always wanted to use the sword, but as I've told you before, you are an archer type. Your skills are aligned with archery, that means every time you level up, every time you gain a new skill, it will be an archer-type skill."

Anna kept her eyes on the floor, the smooth stone cold beneath her stance, a quiet frustration bubbling in her gut like simmering heat. "I know," she murmured, her voice low and edged with reluctance, her hand tightening into a fist beside her hip, the knuckles whitening, a faint ache spreading through her fingers from the clench.

She never really liked archery, its distant precision feeling detached and hollow compared to the raw thrill of close combat, the clash of steel that set her blood singing.

Carlos had always secretly trained with her a little with swords, the memory of their spars lingering like bruises, the ring of blades, the sweat-slick grip, but in the end, he always bested her, his strikes swift and unyielding.

That's because archers weren't as strong as swordsmen or fighter types, their builds lean and agile, not forged for brute force. So, apart from the family's expectations of her nobility, even her own class barred her from becoming a full swordsman, a restriction that gnawed at her like a persistent itch, fueling a deep-seated hatred that twisted in her core.

She lifted her gaze to meet his, determination sparking in her dark eyes like flint on steel. "But still, I want to try," she said, her tone firming with resolve, a subtle tremor in her breath. "I have read-" She paused, the words catching, then corrected herself, "I have heard that even some archers use the sword."

The father nodded slowly, his white hair catching the morning light from the narrow windows, casting a soft glow. "Yes, that is true, some do use the sword," he replied, his voice thoughtful as he glanced down at the white bow in his hands.

But you need to understand," the father continued, his voice steady and patient, echoing faintly in the spacious chamber as he traced a finger along the bow's smooth curve.

"The sword is never their main weapon. It's more like a backup if they lose their arrows or if the bow is taken. Most choose to use a sword, but the rest, they use daggers. Because if anything, an archer can try, at least try, to mimic the skills of an assassin when it comes to close quarters. But not of a swordsman."

Anna shifted her weight, the cool floor seeping through her boots, a quiet resolve hardening in her chest like forged steel. "I know," she said, her tone laced with determination, the words escaping with a soft exhale that carried her lingering frustration. "But I still want to learn the sword. Yes, I will use the bow, but I want to be as great with the sword as I will be with the bow."

Her father shook his head slowly, his white hair swaying gently, a subtle crease forming between his brows as empathy flickered in his blue eyes. "Unfortunately, that can't be done," he replied, his grip tightening on the bow.

She opened her mouth, a spark of protest igniting in her gut. "But—"

The father interrupted, his voice firming like a drawn blade, cutting through the air heavy with the scent of oiled metal. "What you need to understand is that even a commoner can be very good at using the sword, very good. But if faced with another commoner whose skills match his class, he can simply win or outdo the other one just by using those skills."

He paused, letting the words sink in, the distant clink of shifting weapons in the room underscoring his point. "For example, right now you are a level 32, yes?"

Anna's eyes widened sharply, a jolt of surprise racing through her like a cold shiver down her spine, her heart skipping a beat, she hadn't realized he knew her level, the revelation stirring a mix of unease and curiosity in her core.

He continued, unfazed, his gaze steady on hers. "If you fought against a level 20 swordsman while you were an using a sword as an archer, you are bound to lose because of your skills. Yes, you can also train using the sword, but you have to use the bow as your main weapon. You have to polish your skills in using the bow, refine them. Be the best archer this house has ever seen."

Her father extended the bow. "Here."

Anna took it. The grip was unnaturally cold, a sharp chill that bit into her palms yet didn't burn or numb her skin, just a steady, unnatural frost that prickled her nerves. She tightened her fingers around it, the white surface smooth and seamless, and looked up.

"You're feeling it, right?" he asked. "The coldness?"

"Yes," she said, eyes fixed on the curve of the bow, the silver string glinting in the morning light.

Her eyes flared wide, breath catching. She had read every scrap about the Frost Dragon, every battle, every legend, but never seen one. "Frost Dragon?" The words came out breathless, excitement crackling in her voice.

The father gave a small nod, a faint smile touching his lips. "Yes. Crafted by the kingdom's finest smiths. It cost a fortune."

He shook his head slowly. "No. It's been here for generations. Your great-grandfather, Grandal, carried it in the vanguard. He faced the Frost Dragon himself before he died."

Anna blinked, the cold of the bow seeping deeper. "I knew the stories… but I didn't know any of it was left."

Anna turned the white bow over in her hands, its smooth surface cool against her skin. She had initially believed it to be painted, but she didn't expect a far more formidable origin. Bone. Dragon bone. A chill, unrelated to the weapon itself, traced up her spine. The legends spoke of a creature that could warp seasons with its mere presence, a winter that held a 200-kilometer radius captive in its icy grip. The closer one ventured, the greater the risk of freezing to death. Even the most seasoned fire mages could barely endure the cold within ten kilometers of the beast. And this Frost Dragon, the source of this bow, was one of the demon lords of the East.

A spark of pride flickered within Anna as she clutched the bow. This weapon was hers. Her father settled his hands behind his back, his expression turning thoughtful. "The reason I've given this to you isn't simply because your class is archery, but because of its unique properties. If you develop any skills based on water or ice magic, this bow will amplify them. Your attacks will be significantly more potent."

Anna's brow furrowed in curiosity. "But how? How can the bones of a dragon remain so powerful even after its death?"

Her father walked towards the chamber door, his boots echoing in the stillness. A slow smirk spread across his face as he paused at the threshold. "The Frost Dragon was one of the most powerful..."

"You need to understand," the father said, his tone heavy, each word deliberate as they stepped into the hallway, the bow's cold seeping into Anna's fingers like a living thing. "This wasn't merely a monster you defeat and forget. This was one of the Demon Lords. Even after it was vanquished, its mana doesn't dissipate. It still resides within the bones, the scales, the very core of the beast."

He nodded toward the corridor ahead. "Come on, follow me."

Anna walked beside him, the bow cradled in her arms, its chill steady and unyielding. The hallway stretched long, morning light slanting through tall windows, dust motes drifting in the beams.

You need to understand one thing, though," the father continued, his boots echoing in rhythm with hers. "There is a big disadvantage in you using this bow."

Anna glanced at him, her brow furrowing. "Disadvantage?" The cool, smooth bone of the bow felt like ice against her skin, a constant reminder of the weapon's power.

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Yes." He turned to her, a hint of challenge in his eyes. "Can you guess what it is?"

*She looked down at the bow, its white surface gleaming faintly. Father said it amplifies ice and water skills. The Frost Dragon was winter made flesh. Fire mages fell before they could even reach it. Her pulse quickened. Most Demon Lords wielded vast magic, but this one, only cold. Fire became useless near it. That means…*

The Frost Dragon... it only wielded ice, only cold. Its presence seemed to extinguish fire itself.

"Fire," she said, finally, her voice barely a whisper.

Her father continued walking, his expression unreadable, waiting for her to finish the sentence.

"Fire-based skills are going to be less effective because of the bow," Anna said, finishing the thought.

Her father's lips curved in a small, almost-impressed smile.

She pressed on, voice steady. "Because of the Frost Dragon's lingering effect. Every time I try a fire skill, like a flame arrow, it might fizzle, or it'll cost way more mana just to get the same punch."

"Correct," he said. "That's the disadvantage. Fire skills still work, but they're weaker and thirstier on mana. Water and frost skills, though? A whisper of mana and they hit full strength. Pour more in, and the results can be… devastating."

Anna glanced at the bow again. The chill crawled up her forearms, steady and quiet. *Use it or don't?* The legend thrilled her, but archery had never lit her blood the way a sword did. Saying no felt impossible; her father had handed it over like a verdict. In the end, he was right, her class would sing with this bow, not a blade.

She exhaled. "I understand."

Good," her father said, as they continued their walk. They entered the dining hall, and Anna's gaze immediately landed on her friends, Bethany and Carlos, standing close together. Her eyes widened in surprise, she hadn't expected them to be here.

Bethany wore a striking red dress with yellow designs, her curly blonde hair cascading down her back. Carlos stood beside her, dressed in a white shirt and a brown blazer, with brown pants and black leather boots. The sword at his side added an edge of seriousness to his appearance.

Bethany's face lit up when she saw Anna, and Carlos offered a welcoming smile. Anna felt a rush of emotions, joy at seeing her friends, but also an undercurrent of tension as she considered the reason for their visit. Carlos was likely there to accompany her to meet the heroes for training, while Bethany may be there to say goodbye.

"Good," her father said, as they continued their walk. They entered the dining hall, and Anna's gaze immediately landed on her friends, Bethany and Carlos, standing close together. Her eyes widened in surprise—she hadn't expected them to be here.

Bethany wore a striking red dress with yellow designs, her curly blonde hair cascading down her back. Carlos stood beside her, dressed in a white shirt and a brown blazer, with brown pants and black leather boots. The sword at his side added an edge of seriousness to his appearance.

Bethany's face lit up when she saw Anna, and Carlos offered a welcoming smile. Anna felt a rush of emotions—joy at seeing her friends, but also an undercurrent of tension as she considered the reason for their visit. Carlos was likely there to accompany her to meet the heroes for training, while Bethany may be there to say goodbye.

"Anna!" Bethany called out, her voice bright yet softening as she noticed Mr. Enders beside her friend. "Oh, good morning, Mr. Enders," she added, bowing her head slightly in respect.

"Good morning, Bethany," Anna's father replied with a small smile. "I take it you've come to visit Anna?"

"Yes, Sir," Carlos responded, his tone respectful yet slightly uncertain. Mr. Enders nodded, understanding the intent behind their visit.

Anna's father fixed his gaze on her, his tone shifting to one of seriousness. "Anna, do not forget what I said. You are an archer. Understand?"

Yes, Father," she replied, determination stirring within her.

With a final nod, her father turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the hallway, leaving Anna with a mix of anticipation and a hint of apprehension about what lay ahead.

Bethany stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with warmth. "Anna! How have you been?"

"I've been fine-" Anna began, but her words were cut short as Bethany wrapped her arms around her in a sudden hug. Caught off guard, Anna relaxed into it, used to Bethany's spontaneous displays of affection. Sometimes, it felt like personal space was a concept lost on her friend. Yet, Anna appreciated the warmth of the embrace, a comforting reminder of their friendship.

With a gentle release, Bethany grasped Anna's arm with her own, gloved in long white leather. "I'm so sorry I couldn't come to your birthday! I hope you received the letter I sent explaining why."

Anna smiled, the corners of her mouth lifting. "Yeah, I read it. Better late than never!"

She paused, her curiosity piqued. "And about the present, did you get that?"

"Yes!" Anna replied enthusiastically. "Thank you! I really liked it."

Bethany's smile lit up her face, her white teeth gleaming. "You're welcome! I knew you'd like it. You've always been drawn to dresses like that. I made sure it was violet, your favorite!"

Carlos then chimed in, stepping closer with a grin. "I see you got my sword."

Anna turned to him, excitement bubbling as she let go of Bethany's hand. "Yes! Thank you so much. I've always wanted this sword!"

Carlos chuckled softly, a playful gleam in his eye. "I know. You've mentioned wanting it during training. In the end, I had to give you my favorite."

"It was your favorite?" Anna asked, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

"Yeah," he replied, waving his hand dismissively, a teasing smile still playing on his lips. "But don't worry about it."

"But if this is the sword, that means it's the one your uncle gave you," Anna said, her brow furrowing in concern. "I can't just—"

Carlos waved his hand dismissively, a smile spreading across his face. "No, don't worry about it. I gave it to you specifically because it's my favorite. That's what makes it special, right?"

Anna smiled, warmth swelling in her chest. "Thank you again. I really appreciate it."

Bethany watched Anna interact with Carlos, a knowing smile creeping onto her lips. Deep down, she understood that Anna had a special connection with him, perhaps deeper than her own, even though she had known Anna longer. Carlos shared a passion for swordsmanship that Bethany admired, and while Anna was quite different from her, their friendship was unshakeable. Oddly enough, this realization didn't bother her at all.

"Shall we sit down?" Anna suggested, gesturing toward the long dining table.

"Oh, yeah!" Carlos replied, moving to take a seat beside Bethany. Anna settled across from them, anticipation buzzing in the air.

Before any of them could speak, Anna's little brother dashed into the dining hall. His frost-white hair was tousled, a reminder of his recent slumber. He rubbed his left eye with his small hand, blinking as he approached.

"Good morning!" he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Good morning! Are you just waking up?" Anna asked, a teasing warmth in her tone.

"Hi, little guy! How are you?" Carlos added, leaning forward with a friendly smile.

"Hey," Bethany chimed in, her tone bright.

"I'm fine," Jack replied, his voice a bit raspy and groggy, a snapshot of early morning innocence.

"Here, let me help you," Anna said, turning her legs to face her little brother. She leaned slightly forward in her chair, gently using the collar of his shirt to wipe away the dried drool on his cheek, remnants of his recent sleep. Jack squinted one eye shut, a mix of confusion and delight as she helped him.

"Anna," Carlos interjected, curiosity piqued. "What's that bow you were holding just now?" He pointed to the white bow resting against her hip, which gleamed softly, catching the morning rays filtering through the curtains.

"Oh!" Anna exclaimed, turning to retrieve the bow. She placed it proudly on the dining table, a gleam in her eyes. "This is my bow, made from the bone of a frost dragon!" A wide grin spread across her face as she shared her excitement.

Everyone sat momentarily in shock, eyes wide, except for Jack, who was oblivious to the awe surrounding him. Being around Anna and her friends often left him feeling out of place, and the conversation didn't captivate him as it did the others.

"Big Sis?" he called out, his voice rising above the chatter.

"What?" Anna replied, turning toward him, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features as she interrupted her explanation.

Where's Father?" he asked, his expression innocent and earnest.

"Um, I don't know," Anna said, glancing down the hallway. She pointed in that direction. "He went that way."

"Oh, okay! Thanks!" Jack replied, seemingly satisfied, before wandering off in search of their father.

As Anna returned to her friends, her enthusiasm reignited. She resumed explaining the unique properties of the frost dragon bow, and her friends listened with rapt attention, clearly amused and fascinated by her knowledge. The conversation flowed freely, the bonds of friendship weaving tighter around the table.

They continued their animated discussion, diving deeper into the details of the bow and sharing tales of the frost dragon and the lore surrounding other creatures. The conversation naturally flowed into the topic of demon lords and heroes, excitement bubbling as they anticipated their upcoming meeting with such legendary figures.

Suddenly, Anna's mother appeared from the hallway, her hands elegantly clasped together, adorned in sleek black leather gloves that reached her elbows. "Oh, good morning! Bethany, Carlos, I didn't expect to see you here so early!" she greeted, her voice warm and inviting.

"Good morning, Mrs. White!" Bethany replied cheerfully.

"Good morning, ma'am," Carlos said, rising slightly and bowing his head in respect.

Oh, Carlos," Mrs. White continued, her expression shifting to one of concern. "How has your mother been lately? Is she getting better from her illness?"

Carlos gave a small, hopeful smile. "Yes, she's improving. She still has a fever, but it's not as severe as it was."

Mrs. White placed a hand gently on her chest, lightly touching her jewelry as she spoke. "I truly hope she gets better soon. Perhaps a healing from a saint would help?"

Carlos interjected, "We tried that, but don't worry, she is getting better." His assurance was firm, yet a faint shadow passed over his face, indicating the weight of the topic.

Noticing the shift in the atmosphere, Mrs. White opted to change the subject. Her eyes landed on Anna. "Have you seen your brother recently? He needs to take a bath."

Oh, he went that way," Anna pointed down the hall. "He said he was looking for Father."

"Thank you, dear," her mother replied with a nod, a soft smile returning to her face.

"Don't forget to tell me when you're about to leave, okay?" Anna's mother said, her tone gentle yet firm.

Anna smiled reassuringly. "Yes, I'll tell you."

With that, her mother turned and walked down the hallway. As soon as she was out of sight, a look of concern washed over Anna's face. She turned to Carlos, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your mother is still sick?"

Carlos's expression darkened, and he slowly lowered himself into a chair. "Yeah," he said, his voice grim. "We're not really sure what's happening. At first, we thought it was some kind of curse or something. We've never seen anything like this. She just has this fever, constantly sweating and losing strength."

"Don't forget to tell me when you're about to leave, okay?" Anna's mother said, her tone gentle yet firm.

Anna smiled reassuringly. "Yes, I'll tell you."

With that, her mother turned and walked down the hallway. As soon as she was out of sight, a look of concern washed over Anna's face. She turned to Carlos, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your mother is still sick?"

Carlos's expression darkened, and he slowly lowered himself into a chair. "Yeah," he said, his voice grim. "We're not really sure what's happening. At first, we thought it was some kind of curse or something. We've never seen anything like this. She just has this fever—constantly sweating and losing strength."

"Oh dear!" Bethany gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth in shock. "That sounds dreadful. I thought you said she was getting better."

Carlos's eyes widened slightly, as if he realized he had slipped into a lie. "Oh, she is getting better," he stammered, his voice trembling. "She's gaining a bit of strength. You don't have to worry about it too much. Father actually bought the kind of medicine that seems to be working for her."

Anna leaned closer, both hands gripping the table tightly as her concern deepened. "Carlos, you're not lying, right? You don't need to hide this from us. We're your friends."

"No, I'm not lying!" Carlos insisted, shaking his head. His voice trembled as he tried to mask the dread, almost sounding as if he was forcing back a chuckle. "The truth is… she is getting better."

Bethany turned sharply to Carlos, concern etched on her face. "You're not lying, right? You wouldn't lie to us about something so serious."

"No. No, I wouldn't," Carlos replied, but the uncertainty in his voice caused both Bethany and Anna to exchange uneasy glances. They both knew Carlos wasn't great at hiding lies; his nervousness always gave him away, his voice would tremble, he'd stammer, and most tellingly, he'd avert his gaze. He look down at the table.

Anna sighed, frustration mingling with worry, when suddenly the sound of clicking heels on the stone floor interrupted their conversation. They turned to see a male servant approaching, clad in classic butler attire, black and white, with blonde hair slicked back neatly.

Ms. Anna," he announced respectfully, "the carriage has arrived."

Anna's eyes widened in surprise. She thought to herself, Wait, it's already here? Has two hours really passed? I didn't even notice!

"Carlos stood quickly, glancing at Anna with a smile. "Oh! I guess it's time for us to go," he said, his previous worries momentarily forgotten as anticipation sparked in his eyes."

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