Serar was silent for a moment, then nodded.
“I’m worried about that too. Those men are specialized mage hunters, but only a very few people know about the Mana Heart Crystal. Someone is likely pulling the strings behind them.”
“Severe Winter City?”
“Maybe.”
Serar’s voice was heavy.
“On the surface, Severe Winter City is managed by the City Lord, but the underground forces are deeply intertwined. Anything can be traded in the black market—mage hearts, eyeballs, blood, even complete corpses—and there are buyers. And they pay extremely high prices.”
Lyra’s face turned pale.
“Are they after the boss’s heart?”
Serar didn’t answer, but his silence itself was the answer.
Lyra tightened her grip on Freya’s hand. Golden Light Magic surged from her palm, warming Freya’s cold hand bit by bit.
“I won’t let them succeed.”
Her voice was soft, but firm.
Freya looked at her and said nothing. She just gently squeezed Lyra’s hand back, then let go.
“It’s almost dawn.”
She looked toward the east, where the sky was turning pale.
“Pack up. Let’s get moving. The sooner we reach Severe Winter City, the safer we’ll be.”
When the carriage set off again, Lyra insisted that Freya rest her head on her shoulder.
Serar sat across from them, flipping open a book he carried with him, but he wasn’t reading. His gaze was fixed on the snowfield outside, which was gradually brightening. The wheels crushed the snow, making a dull, slow sound like a lullaby.
Freya closed her eyes but didn’t fall asleep.
She was thinking about what Scarface had said—”You have something very valuable on you.”
The Mana Heart Crystal. The one her mother left her.
“Boss.”
Lyra’s voice broke her train of thought.
“Hmm.”
“Why did your mother go on that journey?”
Freya was silent for a long time.
“Because she wanted to.”
Lyra blinked, not quite understanding. She thought for a moment, then asked, “What about you? Would you do the same thing?”
“The same thing?”
“Give up your own life for someone else.”
Freya opened her eyes and looked at Lyra’s worried red eyes.
“No.”
Lyra let out a sigh of relief and grinned.
“Good.”
The carriage continued on. The distant snowy mountains grew closer. Severe Winter City was near.
But just as the sky was fully bright, the carriage suddenly stopped again.
Lyra lifted the curtain and looked out—
A person was standing on the snow ahead.
He wore a dark gray fur coat, and a long scar ran down the left side of his face. It was Scarface.
But he wasn’t alone. Five people knelt behind him—the same men who had attacked the camp last night.
They knelt in the snow, covered in injuries, heads bowed, too afraid to move.
Scarface was also injured, worse than last night. His left arm hung limp, blood dripping from his fingertips onto the snow.
He stared at the carriage, his lips moving, letting out a hoarse “Help.”
Lyra frowned, her red eyes full of vigilance.
“What’s he up to now?”
Serar jumped out of the carriage and walked over to Scarface.
Scarface raised his head. His murky eyes no longer held the greed and fierceness from last night; only fear remained.
“Someone… someone’s chasing us…”
His voice trembled.
“They… they want that Heart Crystal too… they’re even crazier than us…”
Serar’s pupils contracted slightly.
“Who?”
Before Scarface could answer, a black arrow shot out from the forest, striking him square in the back.
He grunted, pitched forward into the snow, and blood quickly stained the white beneath him.
The five kneeling men looked up in terror, then fell one by one, each arrow piercing their hearts with deadly precision.
Bright red blossoms bloomed across the snow, a shocking sight.
Lyra pushed Freya down inside the carriage and blocked the doorway with her own body.
Serar had already raised an Ice Wall. Black arrows struck the ice, producing dull thuds.
A figure emerged from the forest. He was entirely wrapped in a black cloak, his hood pulled low, revealing only a pale face and a pair of dark red eyes.
He looked at Serar, then at the carriage, and the corners of his mouth curled into a faint smile.
He raised his hand, and a ball of dark purple light condensed in his palm.
That light was exactly the same as the Remnant of Evil God inside Irina.
Serar’s heart sank.
“It’s you.”
His voice was very soft, but it carried a tremor.
The man in black laughed.
“Long time no see, Serar. Your mother misses you.”
The moment the man spoke, Serar’s pupils contracted sharply. His breath stopped for a beat, and he seemed rooted to the spot.
“You…”
His voice was hoarse, almost inaudible. His fingers, gripping the short sword, turned white, and veins bulged from the back of his hand all the way to his forearm.
The man in black didn’t move. He just stood in the snow, the dark purple sphere slowly rotating in his palm like a miniature black hole.
The wind blew his hood back, revealing a pale, angular face. His dark red eyes stared straight at Serar, devoid of hostility or warmth.
“Don’t recognize me?”
He tilted his head slightly.
“That’s right. You were still young when you left home.”
Serar’s lips trembled.
Of course he recognized that face—
The Deputy Commander of the Winter City Guard, Vincent Rylar.
His uncle.
His father’s younger brother, and his father’s most trusted man.
“Why?”
Serar’s voice was very low, as if squeezed from the depths of his throat.
“Why are you doing this?”
Vincent didn’t answer.
He simply raised his hand, and the dark purple sphere drifted up from his palm, suspended in the air, slowly rotating.
The surrounding air grew cold—not the natural dry cold of winter, but an oppressive, suffocating chill.
In that chill, the blood on the snow quickly froze into dark black ice crystals.
“That Mana Heart Crystal isn’t something you can protect alone.”
Vincent finally spoke, his voice as calm as if stating a fact.
“The entire Severe Winter City is looking for it. Your father just got the news before everyone else.”
Serar’s expression changed.
“My father?”
“Who do you think sent me here?”
Vincent looked at him.
“You’ve been away from home for years. Your father has always been thinking of you. He said that if you’re willing to bring that Heart Crystal back, the doors of the Rylar Family will always be open to you.”
Serar was silent.
He stood there, the short sword still in his hand, but its tip was trembling slightly. Not from fear—from anger.
The doors of the Rylar Family will always be open to you—
He had heard that sentence countless times, growing up.
Every time it came with conditions. Every time it was a transaction.
He had never been a child of the Rylar Family. He was a pawn.
“He won’t get it.”
Serar’s voice calmed down.
“That Heart Crystal doesn’t belong to him, doesn’t belong to Severe Winter City, doesn’t belong to anyone.”
Vincent looked at him. A flicker of emotion passed through his dark red eyes.
Then he lowered his head, looking at the dark purple light in his own palm.
That light pulsed in his hand, like a living heart.
“Then that’s unfortunate.”
“The order I received is: if I can’t bring back the Heart Crystal, I bring back your corpse.”
The dark purple light exploded.
In the instant the light burst, Lyra lunged at Freya, pressing her to the carriage floor.
The sound of the Ice Wall shattering, of arrows piercing wood, of Serar’s roar—all mixed together like a boiling stew.
Freya was pinned beneath her. She tried to push her off, but Lyra held her hands down tightly.
“Don’t move!”
Lyra’s voice trembled.
“What if you get hurt—”
Before she could finish, a black arrow pierced the carriage wall, grazing her ear and embedding itself in the wooden panel across from them.
The arrow’s fletching still quivered, making a buzzing sound.
Lyra froze for a moment, then pressed Freya even harder against her, covering her entire body with her own.
“Lyra…”
Freya’s voice was muffled against her chest.
“I’m fine.”
Lyra’s voice was still shaking, but steadier than before.
“Boss, don’t move. Serar is outside; he can hold on.”
Freya didn’t move, but she freed one hand from Lyra’s grip and placed it on the back of Lyra’s head.
Her fingers threaded through the silver-white hair, pressing slightly.
“You’re taking too big a risk.”
Her voice was very soft.
Lyra was startled, then grinned, showing her little fang.
“You’re the one who takes risks, boss. I’m not allowed to?”
Freya didn’t answer.
The carriage was shaking violently. The sound of Ice Walls breaking came from outside.
Serar’s breathing grew heavier and heavier, but Vincent’s breath hadn’t even changed.
His dark purple magic surged in wave after wave, and Serar’s Ice Walls shattered one after another.
He couldn’t hold out much longer.
“Lyra.”
Freya grabbed Lyra’s shoulder.
“I’m going to count to three, and you get off me.”
“No!”
“Get up, and then attack him with your Light Magic. You don’t have to hit him, just disrupt his rhythm.”
Freya’s voice was calm, as calm as if she were explaining magic theory in a classroom.
“Serar needs time to recover his magic. You buy him that moment.”
Lyra looked at her, at the burning light in those pale purple eyes.
She remembered that day in the Training Ground, when Freya had said “I’ll teach you” with the same calm.
She took a deep breath.
“One, two—three!”
She sprang off Freya, and golden Light Magic exploded from her palm, forming a blinding beam that shot straight at Vincent’s face.
Vincent instinctively raised his hand, and a dark purple light shield blocked the beam. But that moment of distraction gave Serar an opening.
An Ice Spike shot from the side, grazing Vincent’s arm and leaving a shallow bloody gash.
Vincent took a step back, looking down at the wound on his arm that was starting to bleed.
He was silent for a long moment, then raised his head to look at Serar.
“You’ve improved.”
Serar was panting heavily, his short sword held crosswise in front of him.
“You’ve regressed.”
Vincent didn’t argue.
He looked at Serar, then at Lyra, who had come out of the carriage, and finally his gaze fell on the pale purple figure at the carriage door.
Freya stood there, her pale purple hair blowing in the wind. Her face was still pale, but her eyes were startlingly bright.
She looked at him like he was something irrelevant.
“The Mana Heart Crystal is inside you.”
Vincent’s voice was devoid of any emotion.
“Do you know how many people it will attract, being inside you?”