The Frost bound Domain
The hum of the Doom Train was a steady , deep and rhythmic, as Raghu returned to his assigned capsule. The corridors were quieter now—most candidates were either asleep or busy exploring their Halo Watches. Raghu found his capsule near the far end of Compartment 6: a narrow, coffin-like pod set into the wall, its surface breathing faintly as if it were alive. When he placed his palm against the sensor, the capsule lid unsealed with a sigh and slid open.
Inside was a reclined seat that molded to his shape, glowing softly with cyan light. The moment he sat down, the Halo Watch on his wrist flickered to life, syncing with the capsule's systems. A transparent interface appeared above him, casting pale light across his face.
"Welcome back, Candidate Raghu—Rank: 8. Doom Credits: 8,000."
He whistled quietly. The numbers looked better than he expected, but curiosity soon drew him into exploring the Halo Watch's new menus. The first tab was Training Logs—nothing special, just data from the Pit. The second, Faction Boards, listed hundreds of candidates posting recruitment messages filled with promises of power and resources. The third tab, though, caught his attention immediately: Pocket Access.
He tapped it.
A new interface unfolded—a dark sphere rotating in space, with countless glowing dots orbiting around it like stars. A calm, mechanical voice began to explain:
"Pockets are self-contained domains attached to the Doom Train through dimensional bridges. They serve as controlled environments for training the body and soul. Each Pocket requires Doom Credits for entry. Completion yields Marks, experience, and additional credits."
Raghu leaned closer. "So… it's like buying a training dungeon?"
The voice continued,
"Pockets are categorized into four types—Combat, Survival, Knowledge, and Faith. Higher-tier Pockets yield higher rewards, but also higher risk. Some are public; others are accessible only through invitation or code."
That last part made him pause. As he scrolled through the list, his Halo Watch blinked. A new notification appeared.
Message Received: Jivan
Raghu's eyebrows rose. He hesitated, then opened it.
"Don't worry about factions yet. You'll understand their use later. Visit the side pocket beside the train—entry code 'GLACIEM VOTUM.' Think of it as… polishing your edges."
There was no signature, no extra explanation—just that cryptic line.
Raghu frowned, checking the code against the database. A single entry appeared: Frostbound Domain (Private Pocket). Entry Fee: 6,000 Doom Credits.
"Six thousand?" He groaned. "That man's certainly trying to loot me dry."
He hesitated for a long moment. Six thousand was nearly everything he had left. But curiosity—it always won. Jivan didn't strike him as someone who wasted words.
With a sigh, he tapped Confirm Entry.
6,000 Credits deducted. Balance: 2,000.
The lights inside the capsule dimmed. The air turned sharp and cold. A slit of blue light appeared beside him on the capsule wall, like a vertical crack in reality. It expanded, swirling with frost until it became a narrow gate of shimmering ice. The hum of the train faded into a deep silence.
Raghu took a slow breath, then stepped forward.
He was standing in an endless tundra. The world was painted in shades of white and blue. Icy cliffs rose around him like jagged cathedrals. The air stung his lungs with every breath, and even his thoughts seemed to slow in the biting cold.
A faint hum filled the air—his Halo Watch again.
"Welcome to Sub-Pocket: Frostbound Domain – Trial of Endurance (Level 1). Objective: Survive until the storm subsides."
The ground trembled faintly, and then came a voice.
Low, calm, and impossibly distant."Heat fades. Flesh fails. Will alone endures. Show me what remains when all else freezes."
The sound rolled through the tundra like thunder muffled by snow. Raghu turned in every direction, but saw nothing—until the air above the frozen lake shimmered. A tall figure materialized there, sculpted of mist and frost. It wasn't solid, yet its presence pressed against his chest like the weight of a glacier.
"Vetraas," the voice whispered inside his mind. "God of the Still Breath. Endurance is my domain. Let us see if you can bear silence."
The first test began.
The frozen lake stretched endlessly, a mirror of cracking ice. Raghu took a cautious step. The surface groaned. He took another. Cracks formed out beneath his boots. With every step, the cold bit deeper, crawling through his bones like invisible fire. By the halfway mark, he could barely feel his fingers.
Then came the reflections.
Dark figures formed beneath the ice—his own likeness, cold-eyed and silent. They burst upward in silence, each wielding shards of frozen light. Raghu fought them, his strikes echoing against the frost. Every victory left him slower, his muscles stiffening, his breath turning ragged. His strength was bleeding into the ice.
When the last reflection shattered, the wind rose. The world turned white.
The blizzard came like a living thing, devouring sound, sight, and sense. He couldn't see more than an arm's length ahead. The cold wasn't just biting—it was alive, whispering in his ears, tempting him to sit, to rest, to stop fighting.
He wanted to. Just for a moment.
Then, faintly, he remembered the voice from the Pit—the jovial examiner's laugh, the way Jivan had watched him quietly, as if testing something unseen. All those trials were never about strength. They were about endurance.
He knelt. Closed his eyes. Breathed slow. If the storm wanted him still, then he would be still—but on his own terms.
The wind howled. Then, gradually, it weakened. The snow settled. When Raghu opened his eyes again, the blizzard had ended. The world was silent, the kind of silence that felt eternal.
Vetraas appeared once more, now closer. The frost-god's voice was quiet, almost approving.
"You have learned the quiet of endurance. You faced stillness without fear. Remember this calm when the world burns."
The being extended one hand—a shard of frostlight forming at its fingertip. It touched Raghu's forearm.
Pain flared, cold and sharp, and then faded into warmth. A faint symbol appeared there—three intersecting frost lines forming a sigil that shimmered before sinking beneath his skin.
"Bear my mark. Let the cold sharpen your will, not steal it."
The god's presence faded, dissolving into snow. The tundra began to ripple, the edges folding inward like a curtain of ice melting away.
Raghu blinked. He was back in his capsule. Frost clung to his sleeves, melting slowly. The portal had vanished. The lights brightened, and the Halo Watch buzzed softly.
Pocket Complete: Frost bound Domain – Trial of Endurance (Level 1).
Reward: +10,000 Doom Credits.
Balance: 12,000 Credits.
Vetraas Mark (Passive): Cold Resistance Increased.
Level 2 available. Condition to access Level 2 not present.
He stared at the display, then let out a weak laugh. "So… not a scam after all."
As he leaned back, the mark on his arm glowed faintly blue before fading beneath his skin. The capsule hummed softly, sealing around him in warmth. Outside, the train's low thunder continued—steady, endless, alive.
For a long moment, he let himself simply exist, listening to the train's heartbeat. Somewhere deep in the compartment, faint lights on other candidates' Halo Watches blinked, marking progress, envy, and ambition. The world outside the capsule was still as merciless as ever, but inside, for now, he had learned the lesson of stillness.
He closed his eyes and let the rhythm carry him.
Somewhere deep in the void, the Doom Train glided through frozen stars, and for a fleeting instant, a ripple of frostlight shimmered across its surface—acknowledging another soul tempered by endurance.