Nym lay back on the bed, stretched out his body, then let it relax as he closed his eyes from sheer exhaustion. Dear God, I don't want to go through this again… and what was that strange mumbling I said? It sounded like the ramblings of a drunk man. That was his last thought before sleep took him, the final thing he felt being the cold washing over his body—then fading, as if he were dissolving into nothing.
In his dream, Nym was falling—plummeting through a void, surrounded by darkness locked in eternal battle with a relentless snowstorm. In the farthest edges of that darkness, a tiny, newborn blizzard swirled—trying to merge with another, much larger, more powerful, colder, and crueler.
When Nym's eyes landed on the small storm, a faint feeling stirred in him—something long forgotten, both familiar and alien. But when he turned toward the greater storm and looked into its heart, terror filled his chest. He screamed.
Nym jolted awake, gasping—"No. No. No… oh no." But then his breathing calmed.
Suddenly, the door burst open with a violent crack—KAATCHA!—sending a shockwave of air into the room. Gina and Lester stormed in, their faces marked by worry, fear… and a hint of shock?
Gina whispered, "Nym… what happened to you? Your nose… your hair… your skin…"
At her words, Nym felt a chilling sensation trickle down from his nose—accompanied by a mist of breath and thick, half-frozen blood. When he saw it, he stood up quickly and walked toward the water bucket. He caught a glimpse of his reflection.
His nose was bleeding, but the blood was strangely cold—partially frozen, like it belonged to a corpse left in the snow. His hair… had turned a pure, snowy white. Not a single strand of black remained. Not even at the roots. And his skin—his skin had gone deathly pale.
Fear took hold of Nym. A deep, icy fear. But he didn't let it show.
He turned and laughed. "Hahaha. Don't worry about it. Just a side effect of absorbing a bit of that Frost Lizard's essence."
As he spoke, he condensed an icy needle in his hand and flung it at the wall—where it struck and held fast.
Gina studied him with a serious gaze. "Are you sure you're okay? If you're not, you could go see Captain Flora. She's a fusionist—she can help you."
Nym snapped, "I said I'm fine! There's always a price to pay for power that comes too quickly."
At that moment, Lester muttered in a tone no one could tell was joking or serious, "If you're not okay… I'll kill you myself."
Nym chuckled, easing the heavy mood. "That's good, bullhead. That's good."
With that, he moved on. "Anyway—do you have the money for supplies? I've got a list of what we'll need."
He pulled out a piece of old leather with scribbled writing: oil, glass, small barrels, shovels, and pickaxes.
Gina nodded. "That'll do. But what about weapons?"
Lester replied, "No problem. My dad's a blacksmith, remember? He won't mind giving me a few cheap enchanted blades."
Nym looked at him. "That's better than I expected. I know someone who can boost weapon stats by thirty percent. He can help us."
Then Gina asked, eyeing the list, "So what are you planning to do with these tools? Set the moose on fire or trap it in a pit?"
Nym grinned. "Something like that. I plan to use the terrain—to create a wretched swamp of mud and ice, then lure the moose in. Before that, you'll be waiting nearby to heat the oil… and pour it into the pit. Once it's inside, we'll burn it. And when it's weakened, all three of us attack."
He gave her a bright smile. "As for you, bullhead," he said to Lester, "you'll be our frontline. I want you to break its ribs—but make sure you don't ruin the hide. We still need it intact."
Lester groaned, "What's with the nickname, Ice Princess?"
A stifled laugh escaped Gina, who was clearly trying not to burst out.
Seeing this, the three of them shared a look—and laughed together.