The howling winds and hostile blizzards made Rolan's journey extremely tedious. Walking through the vast patch of white snow was equally as difficult.

He pushed on; his final destination was worth the trouble, after all. Rolan didn't have any form of protection from the harsh cold; the constant sprinkles of the crispy snowflakes glued to his body until he resembled a walking snowman.

To make things worse, the environment was mainly greeted by weak sunlight; apart from that, calling the time "night" wouldn't be far-fetched. Not only that, a small spike in the air's density was rather obvious to Rolan, as though he were drowning in a deep body of water yet storing air in his lungs—a pretty odd feeling to describe.

Rolan had a suspicion he was being watched as well; a strange warm feeling kept tapping his neck as though his senses were being triggered. It wasn't easy having to deal with so much at once; thus, Rolan simply focused on his main objective.

"Aunty Augusta..." He whispered with shuddering lips.

Rolan wasn't fond of interacting with family, especially his parents and younger siblings. Atasa having a red mark on his head was one of the reasons, but not the main one. He just had an inexpressible disdain towards his loved ones; his aunty, however, was a different case.

Rolan reminisced a bit as he stumped through the snow; the time his aunty first brought him and his younger siblings to the North Pole on a vacation.

'I was about ten years old back then,' Rolan remembered. 'Me, my younger sister, and brother were living in the Arctic side with my aunt for about a week as a vacation.'

He rubbed his palms and exhaled a warm breath. 'It's funny to think this place is still the same as it was back then. I don't remember the cold being this relentless, honestly.'

"I'll have to bring Gothel here sometime." He spoke with a smug expression.

Rolan brought out the pocket watch from his pocket and gave it a long, concentrated stare. 'Just what is she planning?'

He returned his gaze forward. "A little bit longer... I think." His footprints were swept away by the speeding winds.

Finally, after hours of a treacherous journey, Rolan arrived at the front of a small house made of logs for walls and roofing. At the house's front, a window was left open; aside from that, all the entrances were shut.

"Aunty Augusta," He called, his voice spinning as an echo.

"Aunty Augusta!"

"Aunty Augusta!"

The lack of response shot a feeling of alertness throughout Rolan's body. Nimbly, he maneuvered through the snow and dove into the open window. Upon entering, he noticed the place was somewhat abandoned. The firewood at the very end was long burnt out, only describable as pieces of cold charcoal.

The table was dusty with snow that had been trespassing through the open window. The interior was as cold as outside and the items were messy. Clothes scattered on the ground, broken chinaware, and a foul, decaying stench, along with a foreign musty odor.

Rolan wasn't sure how to react; his face was blank as though his emotions were wiped clean by an eraser. In truth, his mind brewed with various thoughts colliding and crashing against each other like a sea storm. Selecting one out of the many feelings, as well as the life-draining cold, made Rolan stumble back a few steps.

Darting through the room with his eyes, Rolan searched for any item that stuck out amongst the mess. Since he failed to see any, Rolan got up on his feet, cleaned his face, and simmered down his thoughts.

"I have to be calm and collected." He conjured.

Without procrastinating, Rolan inspected the place for any evidence. He searched through every edge of the tables, opened every drawer in her desk, and even sorted out her clothes looking for any clue. As a result, Rolan unintentionally tidied the house, yet failed to gain anything.

He fell flat on the floor and grit his teeth with a mad expression expanding on his face. "Damn it! Aunty Augusta!"

Slamming his fist against the hard floor, a small gush of wind propelled a piece of paper away from Rolan. It flew out of a book he had stacked; the paper was a thin, yellowish-brown material.

Rolan dragged the paper towards him and read the contents.

"Dear Santa, it's been many years. I write to you so frequently but you never respond. My childhood was so bland; every night for Christmas I wished to catch a glimpse of your sled as you majestically drove through the night sky. I've gone far beyond that stage of my life yet still... if you do see this, I would like to ask if you exist and if you are capable of what the legends say you are."

Rolan paused and raised his brow in confusion, his face twisted into something from a mix of cringe and shock. 'What the hell did I just read?'

He had half a mind to place it back and act like he never saw it. Only half a mind, though.

Rolan continued with a forced voice and squeezed lips. "If so, I'd like to ask you to grant my nephew a less bland childhood than mine. That boy has the same exhausted look in his eyes like I did; the never-lasting boredom and dullness of the average might consume him, something I couldn't bear to see. Please Santa, I'm not sure you'll see this or even respond or if you're even real, but if you truly exist please just give my nephew an exciting life. I beg of you."

Rolan slowly lowered the letter as his head flew to the ceiling; he had to digest the contents, which were incredibly difficult to make sense of. He did feel appreciation for her wish and hopes for his life, but apart from that, he was disconnected by every other word.

'Why Santa?' Rolan was baffled by the concept.

To make matters worse, there were no longer any items nor clues that stuck out to him; nothing screamed suspicious aside from the open window. He didn't mind doing an investigation and searching for her, but he had an ongoing trial. Something at the back of his mind kept flashing him warnings; his heart pounded on loop as if it would burst in his chest.

Stuck between two roads, Rolan had to decide whether to pick his aunt or carry on with the trial. Logically, the trial was the right choice; it held more long-term and overall benefits, while the other was just wasting time searching for a relative. The usual struggle between Rolan's heart and mind began as a result.

Rolan introspected on what to do, the windows welcoming the frost as it brushed through Rolan's exposed skin. He turned to the matches by the mattress and sparked a flame before throwing it on the firewood.

The flame burst and burnt the wood, providing warmth to the freezing Rolan. Immortal or not, the blizzard was like a torture sentence that lasted for an overextended period of time.

As the warm heat chased the cold, the amber light plastered onto rolan's features, providing a more ethereal image of his pondering state. He watched the flame dance as a sort of entertainment to keep his thoughts on a steady flow.

'If I reason this right, my aunty couldn't have just disappeared out of the blue. I've experienced many things as an indulger, so I can say for certain this isn't a coincidence. I'm still not sure how these "trials" work or how they're set, but from what I've determined...'

'Everything about this so-called test is real, from the threat to the lives at play.' His face scowled with a furious rage. 'Why would they send rookies here? I knew there was something very bad about this place a few minutes after I entered.'

Rolan stroked his chin. 'My aunty's disappearance and this trial might actually be related somehow. Is this Santa figure the catalyst? Perhaps a nickname for a supernatural entity? What even is going on in the North Pole?'

Rolan rose and gripped the letter until it wrinkled completely. "The constant series of getting myself involved in consequential events hasn't ceased, it seems. Fate must get a kick out of toying with me."

He sighed. "No matter. As Dean said, these are all small steps to reach the grander objective. Like a small pebble in a large seabed, I have to gather my experience and power to become noticeable." He smirked. "Every single challenge coming my way will only make me stronger; I will assure that."

Rolan jumped out the window and shut it from the outside, his body attacked by the relentless cold once again. With a sharp exhale, he looked towards the horizon with daring eyes. 'Whether I pass or fail is 50/50, I have to keep this fact in mind.'

He chuckled in satisfaction. 'All is well, as usual, it seems.'

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