They emerged from the tunnel into a world painted white.

  Snow stretched to the horizon, endless and cruel, swallowing every sound. The wind clawed at their cloaks, scattering flurries across the barren plain like ash from a dying fire.

  Ryle squinted against the glare. Beyond the field of frost, a thin column of black smoke curled into the sky. His stomach tightened.

  The garrison.

  The thought hit him before the words did. He blinked, uncertain. “Is that…?”

  Artin’s eyes shimmered, his pupils narrowing to sharp, avian slits. The gift was subtle but unmistakable—his senses cutting through the haze far better than any human could.

  “Smoke from the southern wall,” Artin murmured. “Too much for a forge fire. Someone attacked the garrison.”

  Ryle’s pulse quickened. Attacked? That wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to regroup, gather strength, not—

  “Did we win?” Lex asked, hesitant. His breath fogged the air between them. “Looks like they already occupied the garrison.”

  Mica frowned, brushing snow from her hood. “What do you mean we occupied it?” Her voice wavered.

  “Because you weren’t supposed to know,” Lex said, trudging up behind them. One of the prince’s wounded guards hung limply over his shoulder, armor dented and slick with frost. “It was part of the plan. The northern soldiers were to strike the garrison. But I thought… it was supposed to take weeks.”

  Prince J coughed, his voice hoarse, but his eyes burned with grim determination. “It’s only possible,” he said, “if the Empire scums retreated.”

  No one spoke after that.

  Finally, the prince straightened, his breath ragged. “We’ll know once we get there. But we can’t waste time. You need to help her.” His voice rose, cracking through the cold like a whip. “We must rescue her, or she’ll end up like my uncle. Again.”

  The word hung heavy between them—again.

  Ryle froze. The prince knew. The kingdom must have learned the truth. The last gold-badge holder hadn’t died in an accident. Someone from the Empire had killed him.

  And Ryle knew exactly who and how it went.

  He felt the chill seep into his bones as realization settled like lead. The faces in the Empire’s archive—the ones they were forced to memorize—came rushing back in fragments. The names, the portraits, the targets.

  Prince’s uncle's face was among them.

  Ryle paused, stumbling, almost dropping the man over his shoulder from the sudden realization.

  Kana resembled the prince’s uncle.

  …..

  The sound of the impact cracked through the chamber.

  Wor-en’s fist slammed onto the oaken table, rattling the inkpots and scattering maps. The war room fell silent—save for the soft hiss of a lantern wick and the distant howl of wind battering the garrison walls.

  He didn’t speak at once. He let the silence hang there, heavy, forcing every official seated before him to feel the weight of his anger.

  Then, slowly, he said, “We must prioritize searching for her.” His voice carried the edge of command, low but unyielding.

  Around the table, faces turned uneasy. Most were exhausted, wrapped in heavy coats still dusted with snow. The northern front had been chaos since dawn—reports of attacks, missing scouts, shifting lines. And now this.

  One of the younger officials, his cheeks still marked with frostbite, leaned forward. “With respect, Professor Wor-en, we don’t know what’s out there. If we send patrols beyond the ridge, they could be picked apart by ambushes. We might lose more men before finding even a trace.”

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  Another official, older and wearier, nodded in agreement. “He’s right. We can’t afford to throw away lives. Especially not for a single student.”

  The words hung in the cold air.

  Wor-en’s chair scraped sharply against the stone floor as he stood. Before anyone could react, he reached across the table and seized the second official by the collar, pulling him half out of his seat.

  “You don’t know,” Wor-en hissed, voice trembling with fury, “how valuable the student we’re talking about is.”

  The man froze. Around them, no one moved. The firelight flickered against Wor-en’s scarred hands, his grip trembling—not from weakness, but restraint.

  “Our kingdom’s future,” he said, forcing each word through clenched teeth, “might depend on this single decision.”

  He released the man, stepping back. His chest heaved once, twice, before he drew in a long breath to steady himself. The anger didn’t vanish—but it found shape, purpose.

  “I have no choice,” he said, his voice now quiet but iron-hard, “I will mobilize the capable students myself. The one who’s good at tracking and searching.”

  The room remained silent, the officials exchanging uneasy glances. Outside, the wind moaned against the shutters—like a warning carried through the night.

  Wor-en turned toward the window, his shadow stretching across the table, long and sharp.

  “She’s out there,” he murmured, half to himself. “And if we fail to bring her back, we’ll lose more than just a student.”

  …

  The arrow cut through the air like a whisper of death.

  Kana barely saw it leave the string—only felt the vibration of the bow. The shaft vanished into the white horizon, silent and invisible against the night.

  A heartbeat later—clang.

  Something metallic rang in the distance. A deflection. Sparks against steel.

  Kana didn’t wait to see who blocked it. The sound was enough.

  As expected, they had some rough idea where the arrow came from. So Kana quickly jumped behind the treeline, rolling her body as she landed, then ran to another tall tree, not far but the second arrow would come from a different direction. At least, from their perspective.

  She’d already drawn the second arrow. This one she laced with intent to kill. Though she wasn’t sure if it was going to have some effect. The air trembled as she loosed it, the sound almost swallowed by the wind.

  The second shot flew faster—too fast for the eye to follow.

  Then came a sound that wasn’t metal. A grunt. A stumble.

  Got you.

  She didn’t stay to confirm. She doubted that would be enough to kill any of them. Kana moved, legs pushing through the snow in fluid bursts, the potion still singing in her veins. Her [Ranger] class seemed to have visible benefits—naturally reducing the weight of her steps, making her footprints almost unnoticeable.

  Behind her, a voice rose—young, sharp, angry. One of the twins.

  “She’s here!”

  Kana ducked behind a ridge, sliding into the hollow of a half-collapsed trench. She pressed a hand over her chest, forcing her breathing to slow. Her heart thundered like war drums in her ribs.

  Too close. Far too close.

  As expected, the twins were busy looking up for every tree, so she stayed on the ground. She peeked behind the boulder. Then crawl to the elevated part of the area.

  Kana knew her arrow dealt more damage compared to her dagger. The problem was hitting the target. The twins were strong enough to react from her arrow.

  “They’re quite tough,” Kana whispered to herself. “I need to loose my arrow at a very close range.”

  She could see their frustration now— smiles were gone, replaced by teeth gritting and frowning as they searched for her. Because they knew. The situation had flipped.

  She was hunting them.

  For a brief moment, she wondered how it had come to this. The bow she’d bought to kill dungeon monsters now sang for human blood.

  Kana moved to another location, drew another arrow. Her hand didn’t shake this time.

  There was another problem.

  She was smiling.

  She was enjoying the life and death moment and she had no idea why.

  …..

  The twins split apart. One circled left. The other veered right, blades whispering as they dragged faintly through the freezing forest.

  They were boxing her in.

  Kana gritted her teeth, forcing the panic down. She needed to act—not yet. Just one more step. A single heartbeat too early and she’d die. Too late and—

  One of them looked up.

  For a fraction of a second, their eyes met through the darkness. Cold. Empty. Calculated.

  Kana moved.

  She pushed off the branch, air rushing past her ears. She hit the ground in silence, rolled, and loosed an arrow in one smooth motion. The shaft vanished into the dark, a whisper followed by a hiss of pain.

  “We finally found you!”

  The second twin was already on her. His curved sword sang through the air, a silver arc cutting for her throat. Kana ducked, felt the wind of the strike shear through her ears.

  Her boot slipped on frost. She caught herself with one hand, twisted, and shot again. The arrow deflected midair—he’d parried it without looking.

  Too fast.

  But manageable. Her last shot seemed enough to make the other twin pause. It caused some serious injury. It was enough.

  She launched backward.

  He advanced—relentless, graceful, and rage filled through his eyes.

  And Kana, breathing hard, bleeding, heart pounding against her ribs, smiled through the exhaustion.

  Out of nowhere. Kana threw a bottle, thick grey smoke filled the area and ran with all her might.

  I need to reset.

  She would track every movement, she would attack them from time to time—when they try to rest, when they try to eat, when they try to sleep. And when they decide to stop—she wouldn’t let them.

  Kana chuckled, she was grateful to Suri’s gluttony. She didn't know it had a perk until now. She would never run out of supplies, especially food since they were all perfectly preserved in her [Inventory].