Rosalia’s words had barely fallen when everyone felt a chill climb up their spines and into their skulls. Perhaps it was the cold of the Northlands, or perhaps it was the sheer absurdity of what Rosalia had pointed out—or maybe it was because the Wild Hunt and the White Frost were already upon them.
“Run!” Rosalia’s command had become iron law. No one would question the princess who had truly fought in the Everfrost Wasteland.
The four of them yanked their reins at the same time. Their warhorses let out restless whinnies, pawing shallow furrows into the snow. Lita held Cecilia tightly in front of her, one hand gripping the reins while the other had already drawn her sword.
Lita looked back. The skyline, which had been a dull gray moments ago, had now transformed into a rolling, advancing wall of pale white that crushed the space around her. It wasn’t clouds falling from a clear sky, nor was it a snowstorm stealing warmth—it was something denser, far more dangerous.
“The Wild Hunt are considered the most mysterious and fearsome beings deep in the Everfrost Wasteland—bar none. Few have survived seeing them up close, so there isn’t much information about them,” Lai Anna had said days ago, half-chatting as she lay in the warm bath, half-introducing the place to them. “Unlike the other alien ghosts, which rely on brute muscle or mysterious magic, the Hunt is more like a disciplined, ghostly cavalry that comes and goes like the wind. Our Rangers are modeled after them.”
“Some say they ride skeletal horses, others say they have no faces. That doesn’t matter. There’s very little information about their fighting style, and even that is exaggerated. We won’t go into it. What really matters is the man-made disaster that appears with them—the White Frost.”
So that was the White Frost! It blocked vision, brought cold and death, and concealed the shapes of the Wild Hunt. It was a walking calamity. Knowing that these disasters were man-made only added to the pressure in Lita’s heart.
The White Frost advanced like a massive beast trying to swallow everything: light, sound… even the howling wind seemed to freeze in its wake, leaving nothing but utter silence.
“Don’t just stare! Run south! Back to the Great Wall!” Rosalia’s voice snapped Lita out of her daze. Rosalia’s fur cloak flapped loudly in the wind as she shot past Lita like a shadow, Brownie following close behind his master, leaving Lita in the dust.
They weren’t trying to abandon her—but in this environment, even if they wanted to help, they couldn’t if Lita didn’t run fast herself. Lita came to her senses and immediately urged her restless horse, making it gallop with the two of them aboard.
Hooves shattered the frozen crust of snow, sending up tiny ice chips. At first, Lita could still hear the sound behind her from a distance, but within a few dozen breaths, the White Frost had caught up at an unbelievable speed.
“Watch out! Don’t let the White Frost catch you! The Hunt hides inside it!” Shirley shouted at the top of her lungs.
“I know that! But what can I do when my horse isn’t fast enough?” Lita shouted back, activating her Charm Aura to boost her horse’s morale.
With the aura’s help, the horse picked up a little speed—but still wasn’t fast enough compared to the White Frost. Lita could already feel the trailing edge of the frost catching up, her field of vision narrowing steadily.
Lita felt Cecilia trembling slightly in her arms, whether from cold or fear. The cold was becoming tangible, like countless tiny ice needles piercing through her clothes into her skin. All she could do was press herself lower, squeeze her legs tighter against the horse’s flanks, and use her Spiritual Communication ability to mentally coax her horse, urging it to follow the increasingly blurry shadows ahead.
Lita finally caught up to Shirley’s shadow, and the two horses accelerated together, barely maintaining a steady distance behind Rosalia and Brownie while advancing in sync.
But the four of them—and their horses—had already been swallowed by the White Frost.
Lita felt as though she were charging through a blizzard. Her body grew cold and heavy, the ice crystals in the wind steadily draining her warmth. Then, sounds emerged from within the White Frost.
At first, it was an extremely faint vibration mixed in the wind, like ice blades scraping against each other, or some bastard lightly dragging their nails across a chalkboard. Then came a clearer, emptier knocking, rhythmic but unidentifiable.
Finally, Shirley’s warning shout: “Left!”
All three turned their heads simultaneously and veered their horses to the right, but each saw a different scene. Rosalia and Brownie only saw the white fog that had spread around them, nearly covering them completely.
What Lita saw was a ghostly blue blade suddenly thrusting out of the White Frost. Lita swung her sword without thinking, aiming at the shadow. A sharp clang rang out. Then a powerful force traveled up through her wrist, numbing her arm. Now she could see what was attacking her.
First, a horse—but its body had no flesh, only frost-covered white bones supporting its frame. In the eye sockets of its skull, blue flames burned. Was this some recolored knockoff of an old ghost rider’s mount?
The rider was tall, clad in heavy armor that seemed forged from icy bones. A rusted helmet covered its head, and through the gaps, blazing blue flames could be seen. A tattered cape fluttered behind it as it rode. Even the greatsword in its hand looked like ice, an ominous light flowing along its edge like liquid. That sword had nearly struck Lita. The Wild Hunt emerged from the White Frost like ghosts, then vanished back into it.
Another hunter had already reached Shirley’s side. An ice spear stabbed toward her ribs with a sharp whistle. Shirley roared and blocked the spear with her armored gauntlet. With a loud crack, the spear’s trajectory shifted by a few inches, scraping past Shirley’s horse’s back, but the ice chips it kicked up left a bloody gash on Shirley’s neck.
“Hey!” Shirley punched out, her fist landing squarely on the skeletal horse’s skull. The bone horse shrieked twice, its skull cracking slightly. Meanwhile, a layer of blue frost covered Shirley’s gauntlet, crumbling into icy powder as she pulled her hand back.
“Don’t fight! Break out as fast as you can!” Rosalia’s voice came from ahead. Despite saying that, her sword was already clashing with a hunter’s scythe.
Lita didn’t want to fight either, but the hunters took turns attacking. She had just dodged the greatsword when a blue ice scimitar came down at her head. Lita’s silver sword glowed with gold from her crest, perfectly blocking the scimitar. The sound wasn’t the dull clang of metal but felt like she had struck a block of ice.
Blue flames crawled up the scimitar, eating away at the gold on Lita’s sword. For a moment, neither could overcome the other. The hunter seemed to be staring at her; the ice flame in its eye sockets flickered. It raised one hand toward Lita, and several ice spikes materialized out of thin air, shooting straight at her.
Lita shielded Cecilia with all her might. The ice spikes grazed past her cloak, freezing the fur stiff, making it stand on end like a hedgehog’s quills, just like when you go outside right after washing your hair in winter. When she tried to counterattack, the hunter had already vanished back into the White Frost. But the hollow clatter of hooves grew louder.
The four tried to accelerate, but the hunters were tightening their encirclement, deliberately steering their horses away from Lita’s intended direction through pressure and misdirection.
This reminded Lita of her first encounter with the Ice Plains Wolves when she arrived in the Northlands. Back then, she and Cecilia had been surrounded by the wolves. The wolves weren’t really a match for her—Lita could kill several in an instant. But the Wild Hunt were no such pushovers. Even a single one was hard to handle.
If she weren’t carrying Cecilia, things might be easier. But she couldn’t abandon Cecilia—and she absolutely couldn’t let her get hurt. “Watch out!” Cecilia shouted from within Lita’s arms.
At the sound of Cecilia’s voice, Lita raised her sword to block without thinking. A sharp ache shot through her wrist again. That was when she noticed a hunter had slipped between her and Shirley, using the White Frost as cover. The hunter’s ice mace hadn’t broken through Lita’s defense, but it didn’t press the attack—it simply slowed its horse and pulled out of Lita’s reach.
A faint golden light appeared in the White Frost, followed by the sound of something breaking and someone falling. Lita caught a glimpse behind her: a hunter was slowly getting up, a clear claw mark across its chest.
Brownie had done that! But back then, killing a single Ice Plains Wolf hadn’t changed anything. Brownie taking down one hunter was a drop in the bucket. Besides, that hunter wasn’t completely down yet.
“Now’s our chance! Break out!” Brownie’s voice rang out alongside a low growl. At the same time, the hunters on both sides suddenly accelerated and launched a fierce assault.
In that instant, Lita sensed at least three attacks aimed at her. The clang of weapons rang out around her—the others must be fending off their own enemies. Chaos had reached its peak. Lita had just pressed Cecilia close and ducked over her horse’s back to avoid a horizontal slash when another heavy blow tore a chunk of flesh from the horse, making it scream in agony.
If Lita hadn’t used her Charm Aura to numb the horse in advance, she would have been thrown off right then. The neighing of horses, the pounding of hooves, the clash of weapons, the hunters’ roars, and the ever-present wind noise had nearly numbed Lita’s senses. All she could do was swing her sword desperately, parrying attacks from all angles.
A spray of blood burst before Lita’s eyes. Then she lost her balance and fell, with Cecilia, toward the ground. In that split second, Lita could only shield Cecilia with her body, curling up as much as possible to cushion the impact from the horse’s momentum.
Even though she had prepared, the pain of hitting the ground made her groan involuntarily. But at least Cecilia was protected. Lita forced herself to get up. Immediately, she sensed several figures closing in around her.
This was bad.