CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

The Chill Within

The long sleep crept closer, a pull I couldn't shake—familiar, comforting, like slipping into death's shadow only to wake again in the dreamworld. It wasn't a beast that forced me into it this time; no claw or fang had brought me low. It was the urge to change, a quiet ache in my bones begging for something new. I gave in willingly, letting the darkness take me, trusting the cycle as vital as breath itself.

Awareness shifted, slow and strange. I wasn't in the fog anymore, not dodging beasts or tasting damp air. Instead, I sat in Elina's advanced class, the room sharp in my mind—wooden benches, the hum of voices, friends at my side. A memory, clear as if I'd lived it yesterday. I felt a flicker of understanding, clarity engulfing me.

Elina stood at the front, her voice cutting through the chatter. "Can someone tell me the current theories about the light coming from the sky?" A smile tugged at her lips, warm and patient, as she scanned the class.

Hana's hand shot up, quick and sure. She was the Guard Captain's daughter, all confidence and sharp edges. "Hana," Elina called.

"It's someone setting fire to the fog itself," Hana said, her eyes gleaming, like she'd already won the debate.

Elina nodded, slow, considering. "Yes, that's one theory," she said, her gaze drifting across the room. Lessa's hand rose next, tentative but firm.

"Lessa," Elina prompted.

I hadn't seen Lessa in years, but her face snapped into focus—the daughter of the merchant head. Her father probably sat on the council, I thought, piecing it together. "It's a hole in the fog," she said, her voice soft but steady. "Or… my mom used to say it's a God with a lantern—an artifact. Every day, same time, he lights it up."

"Good, good," Elina said, nodding again. "Any others?"

Meris raised her hand then, shy as ever, her fingers barely peeking above the desk. "Meris," Elina called, gentle.

"Hmm…" Meris started, hesitant, her cheeks flushing. "I like to think it's the heart of the world, but… I heard Omen say it's a massive ball of fire hovering in the sky." She ducked her head as eyes turned to her, shrinking under the attention. It was classic Meris, and I couldn't help but smile—comforting, even now.

Elina's grin widened. "That's one I want to dig into—the ball of flame theory. The old Araksiun people called it the 'Sun.' It's a solid theory, and we'll talk it through today." She turned to the board, starting her lesson.

I remembered this day. It was ages ago, back when the advanced class had just begun, but it stuck with me. I'd seen the sun, piercing the fog—a blazing orb, just like the ancients described. I should tell Elina that someday, I thought, letting the memory settle. But as she spoke, the board behind her shifted. Her chalk scratched out tales of the sun, then erased them, rewriting something else entirely.

Ice magic. My eyes fixed on it, the dream bending around me. Words appeared, technical and strange, steps for adapting a body to wield cold. It started with my lungs, noting how I'd barely breathed in that last fight, the air too thick, too frigid. Clarity hit me, sharp and unbidden, like a piece of myself waking up. Cryogenic lungs, it read. The thick, icy air could clog them, freeze them solid, but my manalytic channels—those pathways etched inside me—could adjust. They'd regulate temperature and density, mimicking antifreeze proteins from… arctic fishes?

I paused, frowning. Arctic fishes? I'd never heard of them, never seen them. Where was this coming from? The knowledge felt foreign, not my own. Was it tapping into Kara? Had my mind cracked her database somehow, pulling this out?

The board kept going, sketching a new system—mana-based cryoprotectant fluid, secreted by glands forming in my lungs. I leaned forward, squinting at the scrawl. It'd coat my air sacs, stop ice crystals from tearing them apart. The fluid would break down the dense air, thinning it into oxygen and mana vapor I could breathe. My chest tightened, a dull burn spreading as if my body was reshaping itself right there in the dream.

Next, it moved to… endothelial cells? Something tied to blood, lining my vessels. Life runes and cryo-runes etched into those cells, stabilizing my temperature. Managlobin cycled through, insulating my tissues, pushing excess cold outward. I felt it—a slow, prickling shift under my skin, like my veins were learning a new rhythm.

My body wanted more. The board flashed concepts—cytoskeleton, structural fibers, but dismissed them. Too much mana, it noted, unsustainable for now. I exhaled, relieved it stopped there, but it wasn't done. A new system flickered into view: external runes.

I gasped, loud enough that heads turned in the classroom. Elina paused, tilting her head. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh, uh… no, sorry," I mumbled, unsure if it mattered in a dream. She shrugged and went on, but I couldn't follow her words anymore.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The board redrew itself—runic lines sprawling across a sketch of me, from arms to toes, neck to scalp. Interconnected, precise, like a map carved into my skin. Not etched, but grown, as if I'd always had them. Ice runes, it labeled them, designed to draw the cold my body made, channeling it through my heart core's mana. I felt it happen—a chill rippling outward, my skin tingling as the runes took hold.

It was fast, too fast to track, and just as it finished, Elina's voice shifted. She'd been winding down her sun lesson, but this wasn't how I remembered it. "That concludes our lesson on the Sun," she said, her tone dropping low, heavy. "And keep in mind—all that it touches is his territory." She snapped her book shut, the sound sharp, final.

The dream dissolved, and I woke, cold coursing through me, my evolution complete.

…

Waking came slow, a gradual pull from the long sleep's grip. My eyes opened to the fog's familiar home, its warmth pressing against me, but something else lingered—something new. I shifted, sitting up on the floor, and felt it: a chill threading through me, sharp and alive. I flexed my fingers, watching faint blue glows pulse beneath my skin—veins lighting up as I drew mana into them, testing this ice magic I'd dreamed into being.

But then I saw the runes. They weren't everywhere, not blanketing me, but their presence was undeniable. Thin lines traced across my body, connecting them—delicate, intricate, like veins of their own. I tilted my head, catching a glimpse of one on my cheek, a small jagged mark glowing faintly blue.

My fingers brushed it, trailing down to my neck where the line stretched, splitting toward my chest, then branching to my arms, legs, even my feet. Every part of me tied to them, power humming where they met. I pressed harder, feeling the skin—smooth, but firm, like they'd always been there, etched into me from birth.

It was strange. Not painful, not even uncomfortable—just wrong, in a way I couldn't name. I turned my arm over, studying the lines snaking toward a rune near my wrist. They pulsed as I focused, mana pooling there, cold seeping out.

[Kara]

[Body Analysis… Please await]

[User seems to be producing high amounts of cold, now externalizable. Would you like an in-depth overview?]

[Yes/No]

"Not right now, Kara," I said, my voice rough from disuse. The runes, the cold—I could see it, feel it. That dream clarity was gone, faded into fragments, and I didn't need her breaking it down yet. But one thing nagged at me. "Why produce cold inside? Why not just make ice with mana?"

[Kara]

[My database on magic is limited by Araksiun training parameters. Based on observation, I believe it's about mana cost. Generating water and freezing it externally is possible, but using what's already there; like moisture from your body, at the right temperature, then fueling it with mana, cuts the cost significantly.]

I nodded, letting that sink in. It tracked with the beasts I'd fought—most stuck to one type of magic, leaning on what they naturally had. Made sense for me too. "So, what do you think of the changes?" I asked, louder now, the fog swallowing my words. Out here, alone, I could talk to Kara freely. "And the beast I fought?"

[Kara]

[Changes are masterful—countering cold effects, enabling ice manifestations, and externalizing it efficiently. As for the beast, no records match it in Chainrunner or Araksiun data. You might be the first to encounter it. Would you like to name it?]

[Yes/No]

"Why the yes/no thing still?" I said, half-smiling. "You've adapted fine—talking in my ear now, not just pinging my head. Just ask."

[Kara]

[Parameters adjusted per user request. Would you like to name the beast?]

I leaned back, thinking. It wasn't the first unrecorded beast I'd faced, but this one had been brutal—fast, blending into the fog, nearly ending me. If that last move hadn't landed, I would have died. "Frostshrike," I said after a moment. "Fits it." Then I frowned, patting my side. No new sketchbook. "Well, later," I muttered, sighing.

[Kara]

[Frostshrike: onyx-core beast, blends into fog with ice manifestation, nocturnal hunter. Added to database.]

Good enough. I stood, brushing dirt off my knees, and decided to test this power. My fingers traced a rune on my arm—cold, firm, alive with intent. I pushed mana through it, slow at first. The lines lit blue, faint but steady, and the air around me thickened, hardened, like the Frostshrike's trick. Cold poured out, frosting my skin—not biting, just there—shunted outward by those cryo-runes.

Hazeveil stirred, reacting. Shadows rippled from it, mixing with the chill, and a thin mist coiled around me—part fog, part darkness. I focused harder, pushing mana out with purpose, and the mist thickened, shrouding me. I moved, feeling it trail, a figure of mist and shadow now. The air I'd choked on before—dense, icy—was nothing now. My lungs took it in smooth, built for it, but I knew a beast caught in this wouldn't fare so well, not without the same mastery.

I didn't stop. With a thought, I willed the air sharper—blades of ice forming, thin and hovering, a dozen glinting around me. I reached out, testing one with my finger. A sting, then blood welled up. "Aught," I hissed, focus slipping. The blades shot forward, wild—some slicing past me, others crashing into the stone wall of my fog home. Cracks spidered across it. "Well," I muttered, staring at the damage, "that's gonna take practice."

I shook it off, the cold still humming through me, mist curling off Hazeveil. "Kara, how long was I out this time?"

[Kara]

[Three days.]

Three days. Not long for a long sleep, but more than I'd planned. I'd meant to slip back to the district that same night, before anyone noticed—quiet, unseen. Now they'd know I was gone. I brushed my hands together, the chill lingering on my skin, and thought of Meris. She'd been asleep when I left, recovering in her home. I'd wanted to be there when she woke, to see her eyes open, hear her voice. Three days meant she was up by now, and a knot tightened in my chest.

That fear crept in again—sharp, gnawing.

I still didn't know if it was the beast within me playing tricks on my mind or if something truly happened, but I feared it too much. Practice could wait—I needed to see her, make sure she was safe.

I turned toward District 98, the fog parting ahead. Breaking into a run, mist trailing behind me. The runes pulsed, cold and steady, urging me back.

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.