"If I could just stop them from moving… like freezing the water or something…" I muttered.
The words lingered in my head, sparking an idea. Freezing the water.
Wait. That's… not impossible, is it? Father has the ice attribute. So does my brother. Maybe… maybe I do too.
My heart thudded faster. I closed my eyes, drawing mana into my body until it buzzed beneath my skin. I shoved my arm into the cold river and imagined the picture of ice, snow, the sting of winter wind, water freezing just like in the anime I used to watch.
The water around my hand shivered. Then—
CRACK.
My eyes snapped open. A patch of river no bigger than a barrel had frozen solid, frost crawling outward. Fish scattered instantly, one unlucky one bumping against the ice with a dull thunk.
My jaw dropped. "…I did that?"
A glowing prompt flickered into existence:
Congratulations! You have discovered [Ice Magic]!
My eyes widened until they hurt. "I—ICE?! I can use ICE?!"
The words tore out of me in a half-laugh, half-scream. I whooped, bouncing up and down on the riverbank like a lunatic. "I have fire and ice?! This is insane!"
Adrenaline surged through me. I wasn't satisfied with just freezing a puddle. I wanted more. Testing, experimenting—right now.
"Okay, okay, let's try something else," I said, steadying my breathing. I held out my hand, forcing mana outward, and imagined a spearhead forming in the air—cold, sharp, deadly. Frost spiraled, slow but steady, until the shape of a jagged spear took form.
"Ice Spear!"
The shard launched forward, wobbling awkwardly before plunging into the stream about five meters away with a splash.
I winced. "Uh… not the most accurate. Guess my control still sucks."
Another glowing prompt appeared:
Congratulations! You have learned [Ice Spear][MP 10]!
My grin stretched from ear to ear. "Woah… I actually learned a spell too!"
I couldn't stop laughing. Excitement bubbled out of me in a manic cackle.
Totally worth it.
Grinning, I crouched by the river. The unlucky fish that had smacked against the ice still floated sluggishly nearby. I scooped it up with my hands, triumphant.
"Lunch is served."
Roasting the fish took little effort with fire magic. The meat was tender, a little plain without seasoning, but different enough from rabbit to feel like a feast.
Rabbit, berries, and now fish. I puffed my chest. "I'm basically a gourmet chef now. Survival five-star cuisine."
With a full belly, I wiped my hands on the grass, packed up, and continued following the river.
The river curved left, its steady murmur guiding my steps. I trudged along the bank, humming under my breath, when a flicker of movement caught my eye.
Up ahead, a pair of shadowy shapes slipped between the trees. I crouched low, squinting. Monsters—some kind of lizard-like beasts, slinking toward a dark opening in the cliffside. One after another, they disappeared inside.
"…A cave?" I whispered.
Curiosity tugged at me, stronger than caution. I crept closer, sticking to the bushes. As the trees thinned, the shape of the place revealed itself.
It wasn't just a cave.
A wide stone arch framed the entrance, half-buried in vines. Weathered boards and broken crates lay scattered nearby, their wood splintered with age. A cracked signboard dangled from one corner of the arch, its faded letters barely legible:
"Ga…. Dungeon."
I blinked. "A… dungeon? Seriously?"
The whole area felt abandoned, like people used to come here long ago—merchants selling wares outside, adventurers passing through—but had left it to rot. Grass pushed up between the stone paths, crates had collapsed into themselves, and the once-busy clearing was eerily silent.
I ran my hand over a mossy crate, frowning. "Looks like no one's touched this place in years."
My gaze drifted back to the cave-like entrance.
My pulse quickened. This was the kind of place adventurers lived for, wasn't it? A real dungeon.
I tightened my grip on the satchel, swallowing hard. "If it's too dangerous, I'll just run out. Easy. No problem."
Nodding to convince myself, I stepped toward the darkened arch, curiosity winning out over fear.
The entrance wasn't like the forest caves I'd seen before. This one stretched wide and tall, the stone walls bending into a natural corridor that seemed to swallow me whole. The ceiling rose high like 3 people could stand above my head, and the passage was wide enough that ten people could've walked side by side.
I swallowed, clutching the satchel strap tighter. "Alright. Just one step at a time. If it gets dangerous, I run."
The first floor was deceptively quiet. The stone path sloped gently downward, my footsteps crunching on loose gravel. Every sound felt too loud. Then I looked up.
Clusters of bats hung from the ceiling, wings folded, packed together in lumps of black shapes. My throat dried instantly.
"Oh no. Nope. Definitely not blasting them."
The thought of tossing a fireball made me wince. With twenty of those bats they'd tear me to pieces — I'd mince meat in seconds — and I'd heard they go for the eyes first. Besides, lighting a fire in a cave is a disaster: if the smoke can't go anywhere, I'd be the one suffocating, not them.
So I crept forward. One careful step. Then another. My ears strained for any shift in the leathery bundles above me. I held my breath until I found the staircase at the far end and slipped down to the next floor.