Snow poured from the sky in thick, soundless sheets.

The sharp tang of iron and oil drifted from the mechanical prison looming atop a wandering iceberg, lost on the endless sea.

Gray clouds, heavy with the smell of impending snow, hid any hint of blue above—factories hunched within the frozen cliffs, their rhythmic clanking echoing in the cold air.

In front of the prison, a man with dark hair and striking cyan eyes scanned the crowd. His stare was unblinking as tension coiled in his chest, uncertainty clashing with determination.

"To which end must I save Asahi?" Trid said. "Where are you now, my savior?"

Suddenly, a vision of a dark-haired woman in a black coat flashed through his mind. Her piercing blue eyes ignited a quiet warmth within him.

"How I missed you, my dear Zarola."

As memory blurred and time shifted, the world faded into a haunting recollection—

. . .

Long before war shattered the balance of this world, a dark-haired man battled a beast with every ounce of strength. The icy air sliced his skin, yet sweat mingled with the terror racing through his veins.

He was young then, exposed and utterly alone. His heart hammered with raw fear, each beat a struggle between flight and the stubborn urge to survive.

He hurled himself at the beast, unleashing every ounce of desperation in a flurry of blows.

But it was no use. A swell of helplessness and shame threatened to crush him, more relentless than any storm.

The ice swallowed him whole, defeat gripping his hopes in a frozen fist and numbing his spirit.

He hadn't spoken a word; he was new to this world.

Before his arrival here, he had dwelled in a world filled with dragons. Every inch, every centimeter, all had been gathered and built by intelligent creatures. Vivid hues danced in the twilight as massive creatures soared above crystalline spires, their scales glistening like jewels against the setting sun.

Now, in contrast, the stark, unforgiving coldness of Astait numbed his senses, filling him with an aching sense of loss.

Without warning, he was summoned to the nation of Astait, in the world of Gincad, compelled by his hope for answers to long-held questions. Confusion and loneliness swept over him as the strange land brimmed with both promise and dread.

The clash of old and new worlds shaped the man's current struggle—a journey that began when everything changed...

"Where... have I gone to? Matilda, Dreg, Love, where are you all?"

Like Asahi, he had been summoned to Astait, torn from his friends and left to face the unknown alone.

With no warning, he was cast into this world in the blink of an eye, not as a dragon, but a human.

Mimic bears had dwelled on every corner of Astait at the time, gathering in bunches as they corrupted the nation.

Hidden in the shadows, a mimic bear unleashed a chilling roar that perfectly echoed the call of a wounded wolf, drawing nearby animals and unwary strangers into its reach.

As the false cries reverberated, its thick, ice-blue fur disguised powerful limbs equipped with razor-sharp claws and teeth, making it a formidable predator lying in wait.

Their cunning intelligence, which allowed them to strategize and hunt in coordinated packs, was a threat not seen in other creatures of Astait.

. . .

Nearly a year had passed in the wilds of Astait, where he survived by hunting, fleeing from danger, and fighting to keep his mind intact as loneliness gnawed at his resolve and each night ached with memories of warmth.

"Look! There's a man down there!"

The man, wearing fur and clothing, walked up and asked them.

"Who... who are you?"

A woman with long dark hair and mesmerizing blue eyes glared at him, her lantern casting a blue glow across the snow. Dressed in black with a fur hat, she gripped a sleek, dark blade. Her voice, sharp as ice, cut through the air as she charged toward the oncoming mimics.

"Save that man," she commanded, dropping her lantern and sprinting toward the mimic bears. They erupted in roars and yelps, tongues lashing wildly as one bear's chest stretched and shriveled, surging after the hunter with relentless force.

A sweet trace of honey hung in the air as more mimic creatures—giant wasps and wolves—lurked in the frozen shadows. Only one refuge remained: the city of Blacksmith Haven.

"Zarola, we can't fight them all!" One of the followers said, dropping the lantern.

"Then get hurt trying," Zarola said as she swung her claymore at the five mimic bears. "We need to save this man. No one deserves to die alone in the snow."

"Didn't he just appear out of nowhere?!" Another woman said as she followed the shadow of her footsteps.

Recognition jolted through him: this was her.

She was the hunter who united people in moments that counted, her actions driven by a fierce devotion to protecting others and guided by love and unerring precision.

In one pivotal moment, Zarola rallied the group during a ferocious mimic bear attack. Her decisive leadership and presence inspired the others, turning a chaotic situation into a coordinated defense.

Under her guidance, they formed a protective circle around the injured, all united in purpose.

Zarola's courage and strategy not only bound the group together but also fueled their will to survive, proving her unmatched skill as both leader and protector.

After a fierce struggle, Zarola felled all five creatures with a single sweeping strike, severing limbs as they writhed. She stomped them into fragments, her cold ferocity leaving no doubt of her strength.

Zarola hauled the man into a remote cabin, carrying him to a room and coaxing warmth back into his frozen limbs.

"Please, sit down." She said as she sat on a chair, sipping on a drink. After sitting down, the woman started to ask. "So tell me, what is your name?"

Of course, after being saved, the man was shocked. He never thought he would receive hospitality, not after years of being secluded and alone. But after resting on a blanket and getting comfortable, he answered in a deep voice.

"Trid."

The blue eyes of Zarola widened in surprise.

"Hm. Such a unique name." She muttered underneath her sealed lips. Right after, she smiled with both her eyes and mouth, exuding a different aura than the one they saw in battle. "It seems we found you at a good time. Honestly, how is it that you manage to reside in the wilderness and not be found?"

After taking a breather and resting near the fireplace, he gave a silent smile and nodded.

. . .

The recollection flashed, Trid feeling a weight press against his chest. His dark hair fluttered as he remembered the time when Asahi spoke with Primrose under the starry sky.

. . .

"So tell me, why do you have a frown? Is something the matter?"

Asahi, initially reluctant to share, took a deep sigh, rested under the fireplace, and replied as Trid stared and listened to the conversation.

"The problem is... my sister. Without her, I truly don't feel complete." Trid leaned in, interested, but showed himself not to be near the corner. He felt memories surge in him from the moment he was in Asahi's placement.

"I'm alone, Primrose. I just got summoned here... and... I have been trying to find my greatest enemy. The one who had destroyed my world." Asahi tried his best to hide his tears. "I realized that my greatest enemy... is none other than my youngest sister, Aiyana. After she revealed that to me, I don't know what to do."

Of course, Primrose couldn't articulate Asahi, but tried to emphasize with him more.

"You know, Asahi, my father used to be on the same boat you are in right now."

Asahi's gray eyes broadened slightly.

"Really?"

Trid, ever-so-curious, leaned in, hearing his child speak fondly of him.

"My father had also been summoned here without will. He told me not to tell anyone about his secret... but...."

"His secret?" Asahi questioned. "What secret?"

"My father would catch me dead when I mention that." She chuckled playfully, shifting tone. "Maybe later."

Asahi, nodding his head in understanding, shook the snow off his boots and turned to Primrose, where the aurora of the frosty nation of Astait glimmered its vibrant hues in the dazzling sky.

"Want to know something else, though?"

"And what is that?" Asahi asked.

"The cabin you are in right now is the same cabin my mother owned before."

Asahi's eyes widened.

"And who is your mother?"

Suddenly, memories surged back in Trid as the scene shifted and dissipated into something else.

. . .

Blue eyes and dark hair.

Fair skin and soft clothing.

Zarola's eyes glowed with a steely resolve as she surveyed the surroundings. Her actions spoke louder than words, as did the way she handled the blade with such grace and precision.

She wasn't one to boast or demand attention, yet somehow she commanded it with her presence alone. During moments of crisis, when the shadows loomed and courage faltered, Zarola's quiet strength became a beacon, guiding those around her and Trid.

Her icy demeanor was a shield, protecting the warmth and kindness at her core, much like the fire she kindled to chase away the chill of Astait.

In the rare moments when her guard lowered, a gentle humor surfaced, unexpected but delightful, like a ray of sunlight piercing through a clouded sky.

This woman... this hunter... was Trid's hero.

Perhaps it was her cold demeanor that attracted Trid?

Perhaps it was her warming presence that allured him?

Or perhaps it was her own mystery that drove her?

Nonetheless, it was clear that Trid fell in love with her.

. . .

As fragments of snowy memories settled, Trid remembered why he had come here in the first place.

"I need to save my daughter." He muttered as he clenched his fists. "And perhaps Asahi as well."

Whatever had happened with Zarola drove him now—something tragic, something that demanded action. He could not abandon his adopted daughter to a frozen fate. Anger and defiance surged in him as his fists tightened. Before he could act, another memory flared to life.

. . .

A white-haired maiden lingered at the edge of the horizon. The hunter was gone, vanished without a trace.

Trid had roamed Astait for a year, never once encountering anyone like her.

Deep in his memory, he saw her again: silky white hair, a suit far too thin for winter, black markings winding along her leg. At first, Trid thought nothing of it—until he realized the truth.

The body cradled by the killer's hands was his own wife.

This woman—the one who had taken his love— had slain the hunter without ease.

Just seconds before, the hunter had tried everything she possibly could to attack the white-haired woman.

But she was too strong.

In just one snap, the snow-haired woman forced the hunter down.

Then, after pleading for mercy, they slaughtered her in cold blood, crimson staining her white hair.

Trid had felt mixtures of anger and sadness well up in him.

Why would someone do this?

Why would someone slaughter his own love for no reason?

The cold woman began to utter.

"You have something I want." She said, pushing the corpse back away. "Something I desire."

When he saw that woman, he knew exactly what her first name was.

"Achlys." He said with trembling rage.

He had heard rumors about this woman in a slaughter fest not too long ago.

This woman had killed Zarola with ease.

The only reason he knew her name was from the prophecies of Alaunus beneath the earth.

Whispers of a kingdom residing up in the sky, Cleira. As it was written: Achlys shall rule for three to four thousand years.

. . .

Unaware that she was Asahi's mother, Trid had decided to help her son, not realizing her identity.

If anything, now was his chance, seeing the sun shine in the frozen ocean.

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