Beyond the portal lay the freezing lands of the North Pole, deep within the Arctic Circle. Frosty white snowflakes drifted elegantly onto the landscape, blanketing it in a blissful, angelic white. The cold air tickled the nostrils, extremely pure yet choking to inhale at the same time.

Rolan felt the cold embrace his body down to his fingertips, shivering involuntarily as his chattering teeth played like a musical instrument. Immortal or not, Rolan was tortured by the immense stinging occurring on the surface of his skin, his bones restricted like rusted iron. Every breath was a weight on his lungs.

"Haaa..." He exhaled a breath of cold smoke.

Rolan stood isolated atop a stack of ice, crouching as he took note of the other rookies' individual behavior. In the middle of a stubborn snow blast, they gathered around Antadisma, who stood in wait.

Her body resonated with the icy environment to create a chilling example of strong will and menacing confidence. With her chest forward, she waited for the rookies to fully gather around her—except Cole, whom she identified easily.

"You with the white hair, join the group now!" She ordered with a rigorous voice.

Compelled to play the part, Rolan answered. He slid down the ice and strolled towards them without a care for the fleeting time. Many watched him with resentful eyes, while a few were impressed by his daring display; the ones in between didn't really care for him.

Antadisma didn't react visibly, but her disdain-filled eyes gave her emotions away. She cleared her throat. "Now that you're all here, I'll give you the final briefing on the trial."

"I'm guessing you all must be a bit cold."

CLAP! CLAP!

A large crate rose like a blooming flower from beneath the bed of heavy snow. Its nails weakened and fell, and the crate split apart, revealing a pile of uniforms within.

"These uniforms are your coats, specially designed to help you survive the cold. I'm not wearing one because I don't need it, unlike the rest of you."

The uniforms were essentially thick, long-sleeved tops in a dark color, using coat materials for stronger resistance, featuring a zip and a hood laced with brown fur at its edges. The cargo trousers looked loose-fitting and grueling to wear, also black with thicker material.

"Put these on. Aside from the pins, this will also help you identify your fellow rookie members."

A girl with light pink hair raised her hand. "Um, ma'am, if you don't mind me asking..." Her gentle yet careful voice spoke with direct intention. "...Why are the high tiers so hell-bent on making sure we're able to identify each other? It shouldn't be necessary if this is an Eerie Gothel faction-only trial; doesn't that mean we should be the only ones here?"

Antadisma stretched an appeased smile. "You're a sharp one. Yes, your assumption is indeed right, but for those who didn't understand, I'd rather not say a word. They'll see for themselves."

The pink-haired girl reluctantly lowered her hand.

"To be an indulger, intelligence and a keen sense of awareness are precious assets. I have high hopes for you."

She cleared her throat once more. "Moving on, the trial is simple: Investigate the increase in wavelength activity at the North Pole, keep the civilians safe from any supernatural threat, and if possible, eliminate the source of the problem."

"In the process, some of you will awaken abilities while others will be killed off due to powerlessness."

"By completing the first two, you'll pass; anyone who completes the latter, however, will collect double the reward. After two weeks, the trial will come to an end and your results will be assessed. I won't be joining you, of course, so the best I can say is good luck."

A returning portal swirled open, creating an exit from the freezing wasteland.

"Don't let your arrogance and overconfidence lead to your deaths." She gave Cole a heated side-eye and left.

The dying whooshes of the closing portal and the cries of the wind howling like a siren signified the start of the trial. The rookies hurried through the snow, their feet almost dull from frostbite.

Rolan waited behind for everyone to pick theirs individually; the way they argued and struggled like wild animals to have a pick annoyed him.

'They're just like children; it's not like there aren't enough to go around.'

"This is the last one." A man with brown hair spoke as he picked the final uniform.

The open crate was left empty. Rolan brushed through the other indulgers with his eyes; it seemed the uniforms went around except for one—his own.

'Did she set this up?' He wondered.

The brown-haired man quickly put on the coat and claimed it as his. The women, who wore skirts, left searching for a private place to change. Only 28 people, including Rolan, remained on the spot.

He took a deep whiff of the fresh, clean air and almost retched. Rolan wiped his mouth clean and revolved an aiming glare among the men. The brown-haired man and some of the others felt threatened and readied their stances.

Rolan let out a soft scoff and shrugged. Turning his back on them, he went deeper into the freezing cold until his figure was hidden by a swarm of bright flakes and white gas sweeping through.

"Where are you going!" The pink-haired girl asked in a worried tone.

Rolans body was partly visible through the haze; at least they could see his figure turn towards them, but that was it.

"I'm going to see family," he answered smoothly.

"Keep going north. You'll see a city with bright orange bulbs lit; that should be where our mission begins," Rolan instructed in an advising manner. "It's the only habitable part of this icy hell."

"And you?" she asked once more.

"I'll join you a little later," he responded as he kept walking forward until his body vanished.

Before she could speak more, the brown-haired man grabbed her shoulder, pressing his finger against his lip to silence her. The girl gave him a confused stare and swatted his hand away.

"Mind how you touch me, please." Her face squeezed as though she were sick to her stomach.

The man stepped back. "Don't get too close with that guy; he seems like trouble."

She retained an insulting silence.

"Let's go, we're wasting time." A blue-haired man, possibly in his 30s, intervened; his weak blue eyes bore a grief-stricken experience as his body posture affirmed him as a strategic type.

The brown-haired man backed down without much struggle and agreed. The other seven females gathered by the pink-haired girl, and they whispered together.

Their gossip was difficult to decipher; all the men could tell was that they spoke a mix of insults, curses, and negativity towards the brown-haired man.

Some hurtful words sunk through his ears and stabbed his heart, partially killing him where he stood. "I didn't even do anything bad," he muttered.

Of course, the other guys tried to comfort and ease the pain. What kept them delayed was the group of women that went to change. Thanks to the uniforms, the shivers and tingles of the ruthless cold evaded them; all they felt was a warm, comfy feeling. If it weren't for the space in the sleeves and hoods, the uniforms would have been similar to an inferno.

About 30 minutes passed and there was no sign of the women; strings of worry tied around their necks. The best way of surviving trials was by working together and utilizing the strength in numbers, meaning the fewer they got, the more difficult the trial could become.

It could also mean danger was on its way—a threat not to be taken lightly lurked within the carpets of snow and gushing winds.

"Do you think they've been killed?" the pink-haired girl asked.

"Possibly. It could also explain why they haven't come back," the brown-haired man speculated.

"Calm down, let's not jump to conclusions," the blue-haired man reasoned.

From the distant snow hill, 12 dark figures walked closer. Their appearances looked female from what they could tell, easing the other's worries by a slight edge.

"Sorry we're late, we got lost in the snowstorm." One of the women apologized; her bold and flashy style made her a standout amongst the others.

Some of the men admired her nails, bust, and jewelry that stood out amongst the rest of them. Her way of carrying her body was also very attractive, making the men drool and the women amazed, though not all of them.

"Let's go," the blue-haired man ushered.

They gathered in accordance; little complaints and arguments resided within some of them but were held back. It was barely the beginning of the trial; fighting was obviously a reckless idea.

For now, at least...

The unyielding snow was their greatest obstacle. As Dean said, the obstacles they encounter during the trial were only small pebbles in a larger seabed. Their decisions either steered them towards death or a greater ascendance.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.