Reality.
While Shen Luolin’s consciousness was immersed in the simulation, a great being quietly descended upon the real world.
North of Frostwolf Fortress, in the Everwinter Forest.
This was the most dangerous forbidden zone of the northern frontier, where countless magical beasts roamed the land that had been frozen for ten thousand years.
In past years, they were the sword hanging over the Frostwolf Family’s head, the eternal nightmare of the Empire’s northern border.
But today, the nightmare itself encountered a fear even deeper.
“Roar—”
A Frostarmored Bear King, as massive as a city tower, had once been the undisputed ruler of this frozen land.
Now, the ice-crystal armor it had prided itself on, impenetrable by blades or arrows, silently peeled away and shattered from the edges.
A terror known as “annihilation” gripped its soul.
It could not understand—merely because a small figure had intruded on its territory and it had instinctively let out a roar, why disaster would now befall it.
It tried to flee, but an invisible force nailed its limbs to the spot, not even allowing it to look down at its crumbling body.
All around, the forest was in an uproar.
Tens of thousands of beasts, whether the fierce Snow Wolf Pack or the cunning Icefield Leopard, all lost their predator dignity, turning into a panicked tide that fled desperately away from the center.
To survive, they bit and trampled any kin in their path; corpses littered the ground, but none cared.
And the source of this fear stood atop an unremarkable hill at the heart of the snowy plain.
That figure didn’t even turn around.
Her silver hair, like moonlight poured out, was untouched by a single flake of snow, shimmering with lunar radiance.
It was Moyin.
But the girl now was nothing like the one who’d hugged her knees and shivered in the mine.
Her face bore no expression—only the cold indifference of one gazing down upon all living things.
She did not stand within the wind and snow, but rather outside the world itself.
Where she stood, there was utter silence—not even the sound of wind remained.
Snowflakes stopped three feet from her, frozen in midair before swirling aside.
This was the authority from the pinnacle of her bloodline—Dragon Might.
Even unconsciously released, it was enough to make all beasts submit and silence the world.
Behind her, two women with draconic traits stood respectfully.
At the front, wearing the dignified robes of a female Dragon Clan official, stood Hillna, composed and steady as a mountain—the newly appointed Grand Scholar of the Dragon Clan and Moyin’s right-hand aide.
“Your Majesty.” Hillna bowed slightly. “According to the Star Chart and Ancient Scroll, this is the closest the space-time coordinates have come in a hundred years.”
“The Soul Imprint Your Majesty seeks… his presence is somewhere near this land.”
At the words “Soul Imprint,” a crack finally appeared on Moyin’s eternally icy face.
Deep in those indifferent eyes, a ripple of complex emotion spread.
There was nostalgia, resentment, and even a trace of grievance—almost overflowing—that even she would not admit.
Her hand unconsciously tightened around the dusty gray blanket draped over her shoulders.
The rough fabric deformed under her grip, as if it were not a mere blanket but her one and only anchor spanning countless ages.
A long silence passed—so long Hillna thought Moyin would never speak again. Then Moyin finally murmured, voice light as a snowflake landing on a palm.
“This time… you won’t leave me behind again.”
When she finished, she didn’t linger. She turned and became a streak of silver light, vanishing into the snow.
Only after Moyin left did the crushing pressure slowly fade.
The younger female official standing beside Hillna at last dared to take a deep breath of frigid air.
Her name was Lilith—a recent graduate of the Dragon Academy and now an Apprentice Official. At this moment, she was patting her well-developed chest in lingering fear, her face pale.
“Professor Hillna… I-I thought my heart was going to stop…”
Hillna glanced at her, her gaze calm as ever. “You’ll get used to it. Showing reverence to Her Majesty is the first rule for survival.”
“Yes…” Lilith nodded quickly, but curiosity got the better of her.
Looking in the direction Moyin had disappeared, she recalled the fleeting vulnerability in Her Majesty’s eyes when she clutched the blanket, and finally summoned the courage to ask the question she’d been holding back.
“Professor, I just don’t get it… Her Majesty is protected by the Embrace of Flames, so why does she always wear that blanket? It doesn’t even look warm.”
“That blanket is so old and plain, the edges are frayed—worse than the rags my family uses to mop the floor…”
She was talking about the gray blanket Moyin always wore over her shoulders.
The blanket was terribly ordinary, the corners worn; it clashed completely with Moyin’s noble bearing, like a king’s crown inlaid with a pebble picked from the roadside.
Hearing the question, Hillna fell silent.
This Dragon Clan Grand Scholar, known for her wisdom and composure, now showed a rare, complex look of reminiscence.
Hillna lowered her eyes and sighed gently.
“That blanket… was given to Her Majesty during the coldest days by someone else.”
“The coldest days?” Lilith was even more confused.
“…You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“That’s exactly what my mom says whenever she doesn’t want to answer…”
“Lilith, what did you just say?”
“Nothing, Professor Hillna!”
The wind and snow continued as if to bury all secrets.
In another time and space, motes of light danced in the air.
[Simulation Instance: Oath of Embers]
Daylight streamed through the cracks of the mine, driving away the cold of the long night.
Moyin woke from her dream, her mind still a bit dazed.
Warm.
This was the first time since her escape that she’d felt such pure warmth.
She hadn’t woken in the middle of the night from the cold, hadn’t curled into a ball yet still failed to fight off the chill.
She’d even indulged herself and slept until morning.
Sitting up, she realized she was covered by that battered but clean blanket.
That guy… In the end, he hadn’t taken the blanket back.
She subconsciously clutched it tight, catching the faint scent of another person, and the reassuring aroma of campfire smoke.
Though that guy’s mouth was sharp—always complaining she was slow to make a fire, treating her like a tool—his actions were something else entirely.
He gave her food, taught her to control her power, even gave her the only blanket…
Remembering how fiercely she’d bared her fangs at him yesterday, shame welled up inside.
No, she had to apologize.
And thank him properly, too.
Carefully folding the battered but clean blanket and setting it aside, she stood and looked around.
The mine was empty; apart from the drifting motes of light, there was no one else.
Luolin was gone. Her heart skipped a beat, and the warmth she’d just found seemed to vanish with his absence.
A sudden surge of loss and panic gripped her chest.
He left?
Just like that?
Abandoned her here alone?
The moment the thought surfaced, the light at the cave entrance was blocked by a tall figure.
Luolin had returned.
He carried two fat snow rabbits over his shoulder, and in his left hand a bundle of dry firewood. The morning frost clung to his black leather armor, forming a delicate white edge.
It was him.
All Moyin’s unease vanished instantly, replaced by a steadiness she didn’t even realize was there.
She opened her mouth—the apology and gratitude she’d prepared already at the tip of her tongue.
However, Luolin’s gaze fell on her for only an instant before shifting away.
There was a subtle awkwardness to his expression.
The girl’s unguarded appearance in the morning light made Luolin’s breath catch for a moment.
But he immediately crushed that fleeting thought, his brow twitching.
He was here to finish a mission, not to invite trouble.
And this scene—undeniably—spelled trouble.
He coughed to break the awkward silence.
“Don’t get any funny ideas. Get up and get to work.”
Moyin was stunned, then followed his gaze downward.
“Swish!”
Her cheeks turned so red they seemed about to drip blood.
After days on the run, her linen clothes were nothing but tatters.
After last night’s ordeal and a night’s sleep, her clothes were in utter disarray.
The fabric on her left shoulder had completely torn, exposing a swath of fair collarbone and rounded shoulder, and because of her position, her chest was rather… exposed.
He… saw everything?
A wave of shame crashed over Moyin. Not because of his gaze, but because she finally realized how she looked—
Her clothes in rags, wretched beyond measure.
That little bit of hard-won warmth and gratitude now seemed utterly laughable in the harsh light of reality.
So, in his eyes, she was nothing more than this.
This warmth was not an equal exchange, but the charity of the strong to a pitiful wretch by the roadside.
The realization was colder than the eternal ice outside the cave. Moyin grabbed the folded blanket and wrapped herself tightly in it.