The artifact that would bolster resistance within the Snowfield’s Boundary came in the form of a bracelet.

“Here.”

Returning and leading Clay’s party into another room, Selvaro handed over two bracelets.

“These grant resistance to what you’ll see and hear inside the Snowfield’s Boundary.”

Clay took one first and fastened it around his wrist, then passed the other to Selimia.

“But will just two be enough?” He asked, pointing at Clay’s sword.

“Syltanaro is nothing to worry about.”

Since it resonated with its master, just Clay wearing one was enough to share its effects. Moreover, as a weapon, Syltanaro already possessed innate resistance to anything harmful to living beings—poisons, mental intrusions, and so on—unless in highly exceptional cases.

“What about the ritual?”

“Are you planning to head out immediately?”

“There’s no reason to waste time.”

“…Fine.”

Selvaro glanced briefly at Selimia before continuing.

“We’ll conduct the ritual at the entrance to the Snowfield’s Boundary.”

“Why there?”

“Because its effects don’t last long.”

He explained the conditions to Clay.

“Even with the ritual, most people can’t last more than an hour inside the Snowfield’s Boundary.”

After that, one would inevitably lose the ability to distinguish between what was real and what was false.

“That bracelet will grant resistance to status effects from the hallucinations and whispers, but it can’t prevent the mental confusion that comes from failing to tell truth from illusion. That confusion is self-inflicted.”

One hour.

Clay lowered his gaze slightly.

It’s not a long time, but it’s not short, either.

His purpose inside was singular. As long as he didn’t lose his way, it would be enough.

“Understood.”

He agreed there was no harm in maximizing the benefit, then spoke without hesitation.

“Let’s move to the Snowfield’s Boundary right away.”

It was time to see exactly what had attached itself to him.

The Snowfield’s Boundary

Even in HanuMeyer, where permafrost was the norm, the air here was far colder, filling the surroundings with an icy bite.

Located at the far northern edge of the kingdom, it had always been a place unfit for human life—not merely because of the cold, but because it touched upon some unknown fragment of another world. A raging, incomprehensible power filled the region; stepping in without preparation often meant losing one’s mind—or never returning at all.

Clay had once entered the Snowfield’s Boundary during his hero days, chasing rumors that the Demon King had hidden something there.

It might have been something capable of threatening the world itself, so Clay had gone in clad with every blessing possible.

He had emerged with no memory of what happened inside. What little he recalled was that there had been no trace of the Demon King—only temples. Temples of Elhaen, and of other gods as well.

“We’re here,” Selvaro said.

They stood before a place where white snowstorms swirled like mist, obscuring vision.

“As you know, monsters that don’t exist in our world sometimes appear here—crossing over from beyond the Boundary.”

HanuMeyer was constantly battling such creatures.

“Inside, you may see far more of them than you ever would here.”

“I know.”

“Of course—you’ve been inside before.”

Selvaro still wore the same puzzled expression he’d had back then.

“I’ve never understood how you survived to return.”

“Ask all you want; I can’t tell you. I truly don’t know.”

“And yet you insist on entering that dangerous place again—this time with Selimia?”

At his sharp tone, Clay gave a dry chuckle.

“That’s the only way to make sure you do your part.”

If Selimia’s safety depended on Clay’s survival, then Selvaro would ensure they both came back alive. Selimia, after all, wouldn’t obey a command to retreat if Clay was still in danger.

“Fine. Stand there.”

Selvaro pointed toward a magic circle crafted by HanuMeyer’s court magicians. They watched Clay warily but moved to begin the ritual once the order was given.

Clay stepped onto the circle with Selimia. At Selvaro’s nod, the magicians began chanting.

HanuMeyer’s mages were not exceptional in combat. Their true specialty lay in rituals like this—enhancing mental fortitude.

That’s entirely because of the royal family, Clay thought.

For generations, the HanuMeyer royals had borne the duty of personally fighting the Boundary’s monsters. As a result, cold steel had always taken precedence over magic in their martial image.

Not that Selvaro cares about appearances.

Selvaro was the embodiment of the northern wall—living purely to fulfill his duty. Clay regarded him with a certain respect; there weren’t many people left who lived like that.

And once, Clay had been one of them.

Whoosh—!

The ritual ended, a new aura wrapping around Clay’s body. Selimia glanced down at herself, clearly sensing her heightened awareness.

“All preparations are complete,” Selvaro said.

“I won’t pretend to worry about you, but since you’re taking Selimia, I will tell you to come back in one piece.”

“That’s enough.”

Clay began walking.

“Selimia.”

At his call, she quickly fell in behind him. Her eyes briefly met Selvaro’s, but she turned away without hesitation, keeping pace with Clay.

“…Truly…” Selvaro murmured.

Selvaro watched them head into the howling blizzard and murmured under his breath.

“I don’t even know what to call this feeling.”

While he stood there with a storm of mixed emotions, Clay’s group soon vanished into the white squall.

Whoooosh—

The blizzard that marked the beginning of the Snowfield’s Boundary whipped about with a force that seemed ready to swallow the world whole.

『Demon King.』

Syltanaro, who had been silent until now, spoke.

『Be careful. The snow seems to be piled high.』

As she said, the ground was buried under an immense layer of snow, completely untrodden. No paths, no packed-down trails—nothing.

Fortunately, Selvaro had at least provided snowshoes, which they could strap onto their boots to keep from sinking in.

“Let me know the moment you sense anything, Syltanaro,” Clay said, scanning the swirling white that obscured their sight. More than the risk of stumbling into deep snow, it was the sudden appearance of something that one had to fear here.

『Understood, Demon King. But still—please watch your step.』

As Syltanaro issued another warning, Selimia spoke up.

“Demon King, should I go ahead and lead the way?”

She wasn’t even wearing the snowshoes—she had shaped a wide sole of ice under her feet herself.

“The snowstorm isn’t much of a threat to me.”

Having always been attuned to ice and snow, Selimia was unaffected. Even with snowflakes piling on her long lashes, she didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable.

“Selimia, can’t you just sweep this blizzard away entirely?”

“I’d like to, but the snow here isn’t something I can control.”

She gritted her teeth.

“No matter how I try, it’s the same result. Feels like… a different kind of environment. One I can’t influence.”

“I see.”

As expected, nothing here could be trusted at face value. Even the snow and the cold were likely not of their own world.

“Still, I can adapt easily to places like this. I’ll go first.”

As she moved to pass him, Clay caught her by the arm.

“No.”

“Eh?”

“Even if you go first, nothing will change.”

From what fragments of memory he had, this place had no paths.

“What direction are you even planning to go in? Do you know where to head?”

“Oh.”

“Direction is meaningless here.”

“Then… how—?”

“Just keep walking.”

Whichever way one walked, one would end up in the same place.

“I know because I’ve done it before.”

No matter how much you wandered, you would always arrive at the same location. Whatever boundaries to other worlds existed here, from HanuMeyer you could only reach one fixed point.

“Find that point, and you’ll also find the way out. The space itself bends so you end up back where you first entered.”

“…I see.”

Selimia’s voice was quiet.

“So you’ve been here before, Demon King.”

“Yes.”

“Then that place… is where what you’re looking for is?”

“Most likely.”

What was attached to Tia—and what was attached to him.

Clay intended to confirm the connection there.

“A place tied to the gods, then.”

She already knew from his earlier explanation that whatever clung to him was the same as what clung to Tia.

She tilted her head.

“But why would such a place be here?”

“Who knows.”

Clay didn’t have a definitive answer, but he had a theory.

It could be a means of contact.

For some reason, Elhaen had only been reaching out to those in this world through the use of marks. But Elhaen would have needed a backup method in case the mark became useless—

A place that irrelevant people couldn’t easily approach.

“Either way, it won’t appear in plain sight. Will you be all right?”

Selimia clenched her fists.

“Of course. I’ll stay right at your side until we reach the destination.”

“I appreciate it.”

She voiced no complaint about being used to get into the snowfield safely. On the contrary, she seemed determined to help. Clay found himself quietly impressed.

Perhaps she’ll become even more useful.

He was revising his opinion of her upward when—

—Uwooooooh!

A monstrous roar echoed from somewhere ahead.

(End of Chapter)

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