I woke up the next day before dawn, drenched in sweat.
Not because I was hot—the room was chilled just the way I liked it. But something in the air had shifted. Not mana. Not the academy wards. Something deeper.
There was a whisper in my mind, like wind threading through the bones of the world. It wasn't words. It was direction. A call. Like something old and cold had looked my way and remembered I was still here.
But there was no message. No quest ping. No blinking objective in my interface.
Just silence.
I got up, ignoring the ache in my shoulders. Maybe from training. Maybe from carrying weight I couldn't name. Tossing on my uniform coat, I stepped into the hall, greeted by the distant hum of enchanted light crystals and soft footsteps from early risers.
Ravo wasn't in his room when I checked. Typical.
He either skipped sleep entirely or fell asleep face-first in a library rune tome. Either way, he'd show up at breakfast with baggy eyes and more questions than answers.
As I passed the viewing balcony on the northern wing, the world outside shimmered with that perfect stillness you only got at first light. Mist rolled over the academy gardens, and far in the distance, the protective dome sparkled faintly against the pressure of drifting wild mana.
I leaned against the railing, my fingers unconsciously calling the System menu again.
[System Interface Activated]
Name: Alto
Level: 7
Strength: 65
Endurance: 70
Agility: 75
Willpower: 80
Survival Skill: 68
Cold Resistance: 40
Hunger: 12%
Hypothermia Risk: Low
Skills:
Cold Breath of the Wind (Passive) — Active
Survival Instinct (Passive) — Active
Basic Fire Magic (Active) — Level 3
Windstep (Active) — Level 1
Still no change. No prompts. No stat jumps.
"You ever think the System's... waiting for something?" I muttered under my breath.
The System didn't respond. Obviously.
By midday, the sense of pressure hadn't faded. If anything, it had gotten worse.
Lectures dragged. Combat theory felt hollow. Even Professor Lumina's lesson on spell layering couldn't pierce the haze pressing against my mind.
I kept checking corners. Hallways. Reflections.
Waiting.
Even Mira—the new girl from last week's sparring class who normally walked with confident silence—had glanced at me twice during potion mixing. Her silver eyes narrowed in a way that told me I wasn't exactly hiding my unease.
"You look like you're expecting something to explode," she said, not unkindly.
"Just tired," I lied.
She didn't press, but I noticed her grip tighten on her wand when we parted ways.
And then—
It happened at the worst time. During lunch.
One moment I was ignoring Ravo's retelling of a duel he absolutely did not win fairly.
The next, time fractured.
[Trial Realm Entry Imminent]
[Warning: Physical presence will be temporarily suspended.]
I barely had time to stand.
The air folded around me like a cloak of mist. Heat fled my body.
Ravo blinked. "Alto? You okay?"
I opened my mouth to answer.
I was already gone.
Snow.
The first thing I felt was the crunch beneath my boots. The wind slicing across my face. Trees loomed tall and silver in a world half-buried in white.
A taiga again. But not the same.
This one was steeper. Colder. And less forgiving.
I looked down. My winter cloak was heavier, reinforced. My boots fur-lined and enchanted. The System had prepared me better this time.
[Trial Initiated: Hunt or Be Hunted]
Survive for 48 hours. Eliminate at least one Alpha-class threat.
[Recommended Tier: C+]
I swallowed.
Tier C+. That was below Frostfang—who had been Tier A, somehow. Which meant this wasn't the worst thing the Trials could throw at me. Just close.
I remembered the bite of its claws. The sting of its roar in the marrow of my bones.
If that was B-tier, what the hell did C+ mean?
As if in response, a howl echoed through the trees.
It didn't sound like any wolf I'd ever heard.
Deeper. Rougher. Like something ancient that remembered hunting men before fire was discovered.
And the System whispered one final thing:
[You are being watched.]
I moved cautiously through the snow, heart pounding in rhythm with the crunch beneath my boots. Every breath steamed out in front of me and was immediately whisked away by the cutting wind.
The trees were taller here—towering black-furred pines, dusted with heavy ice. Strange carvings etched into their bark caught the moonlight in ways that made my spine itch.
I didn't remember seeing anything like this during the Frostfang trial. That place had felt hostile. This place felt haunted.
I activated Windstep, darting across a gap between fallen logs. The air around me hissed faintly as the skill kicked in, my legs light and sure for just a few seconds. Then the weight returned.
[Windstep Active — Duration 3 seconds remaining...]
I slid behind a frozen stump and crouched. Eyes scanning.
Movement. Up ahead. Something massive moving between the trees.
Not a silhouette—a shadow that moved on its own, gliding across the forest floor even though nothing blocked the light.
And then it was gone.
My hands trembled slightly as I pulled the flint-carved blade from my belt. The System had provided it again—a hybrid of steel and enchanted obsidian, humming faintly with stored fire.
I whispered to myself. "You've done this before. You can survive again."
The cold didn't answer.
But a growl did.
Low. Deep. Somewhere between beast and machine.
[Threat Detected: Alpha-class Beast Identified — Fenrul Warden][Tier: C+]
A soft image shimmered into existence—a bestiary projection. A wolf-shaped entity, but far too large. Antlers of gnarled ice. Eyes glowing like twin moons. Coated in fur that shifted like shadows.
"Perfect," I muttered.
The hunt had begun.
And this time, I wasn't sure if I was the predator or the prey.