Rudra and Riley moved away from the campfire's glow, boots crunching over frost-bitten dirt, each carrying their weapons the way soldiers carry old grudges—Rudra with his revolver still half-cocked, Riley with his rifle slung over his shoulder like a bored executioner.
Rudra kept glancing over his shoulder, jaw tight, eyes still twitching with leftover adrenaline. Riley raised a brow. "Alright, Red. Spill it. What's the Nicole situation? And why the hell did George R.R. Martin say 'shirtless lady'?"
Rudra rubbed the back of his neck, clearly wishing he could evaporate. "It's not— she's not— okay just listen. She's got this… this long platinum blond hair. Almost white. Straight. Falls to her waist. Ice-blue eyes, like the type that make people think she's judging their soul. Five-ten. Lean. Athletic. built. Like if a ballerina trained in Spetsnaz."
Riley nodded thoughtfully. "Aight. Okay. Cool. Makes sense. Still not hearing the part where she doesn't own a shirt."
Riley blinked, eyebrows rising as Rudra's voice dropped into that low, lecture-like cadence he only used when talking about techniques that could kill an entire postal code.
"She probably has an ice flower," Rudra muttered. "She uses sunlight during the day—absorbs it through exposed skin—stores it. Otherwise she'd freeze herself to death the moment she tries an ice kamikaze technique… or Frostageddon."
Riley almost tripped. "Frostageddon?"
Rudra nodded, shoulders tense, breath puffing white in the suddenly colder air. "My teacher told me… Frostageddon is traditionally a suicide technique. The user detonates a burst of absolute-zero cold. It's— It's not like freezing a room. It's an event. Everything within range becomes ice sculpture dust. No survivors. Not even gods."
Riley whistled softly. "So… why is she not dead? And why does she fight half naked?"
Rudra stopped walking, jaw clenching at the edge of memory. He swallowed. "There's a loophole. A tiny, absurd, one-second loophole. If the user can generate enough heat in their body… for exactly a single second… they survive the blast. Frostageddon hits everything… except them."
Riley stared. "One second."
"Yes."
"One single second is all that saves her from turning herself into a popsicle."
"Yes."
"And she gets that one second of heat… by exposing her skin to sunlight like a reptile on a rock?"
Rudra stared at him, eyes narrowing like he was deciding whether to slap Riley or slap himself for ever becoming friends with Riley.
"So she's ice-cream Godzilla?" Riley asked.
"Something like that," Rudra sighed.
Riley stopped walking. "Wait. How do you know?"
Rudra exhaled through his nose—the kind of exhale therapists call a cry for help.
"Well, I had a bad dream that didn't feel like a dream, and you made a massive valley with that kangaroo overclock thingy, and she actually has a stage two, where she turns into fucking Cinderella or some shit."
Riley blinked. "But you said she's Russian. Cinderella was German, mate."
Rudra threw both hands up. "WHO THE FUCK CARES? THE COUNTRIES LITERALLY SHARE A BORDER, YOU STUPID KANGAROO. LIKE WHAT'S EVEN THE DIFFERENCE?"
Riley crossed his arms. "Catholic Germanics and Orthodox Slavs."
Rudra squinted. "…sooo?"
Riley exhaled, bracing himself for a full Europe lecture.
"So, mate, that means culturally—"
"No. Shut. Up." Rudra cut him off mid-word, voice sharp. "I regret asking. I regret talking. I regret breathing. I regret that you're my—"
"Best friend," Riley said with a grin, proud as a kid showing a trophy.
"No. My cross to bear," Rudra corrected, voice low.
Riley squinted. "I thought you were Hindu?"
"I am, you nincompoop. That's a proverb, not a religious debate," Rudra snapped, running both hands through his hair.
Riley shrugged, smirking. "I don't really believe you or your dream, but since GRRM referenced that chick… I'll buy it. Tell me more."
Rudra hesitated, eyes narrowing. "I can't tell you about the Aeon."
"Then… I died" Rudra answered
Riley said, mockingly tilting his head. "You died? Dead-dead? Mate, you said you died in a dream and woke up with this info. That's… that's retarded. It's like you died and went back in time, or some… some kind of hero's comeback thing?"
Rudra froze.
"Come by me again?" Riley pressed, teasing.
"Hero's comeback? You know that 2010 PS3 game," Riley continued, waving his hands for emphasis, "where the main character dies and goes back in time?"
"I remember playing it," Rudra said quietly, voice almost distant. "One of those Telltale-like choice-based games, right? Checkpoints that depend on the hero… fifteen… and his will to save people?"
"It was quite famous," Riley said proudly. "I platinumed it."
Rudra's gaze didn't move.
Rudra's grip on his revolver tightened, a subtle, dangerous tension humming through the air between them.
Branches shifted. Snow crunched.
A presence—not footsteps, not animal, something alert and watching—moved behind them.
Riley instantly swung his hunting rifle over his shoulder, barrel snapping into line.
Rudra raised his revolver in the same breath, finger tight on the trigger.
Both turned in perfect synchronization, eyes narrowed, adrenaline spiking.
"Alright, come out, Elsa," Riley called, voice steady but irritated. "We don't wanna build a snowman."
Rudra added, "Yeah. What the Aussie said."
The bushes rustled again.
Both hunters braced—Rudra's mantra flaring faintly, Riley's lightning itching around his fingers.
And then—
Serenkhand poked her head out.
"…Why are you two shouting Disney references at me?" she asked flatly, holding a bundle of dried herbs she had been collecting.
The boys stared.
Riley lowered his rifle first. "Well, uh. We thought you were… you know."
He vaguely waved toward the sky like he was gesturing at an entire threat category.
Rudra lowered his revolver slower. "…an ice witch with no shirt."
Serenkhand blinked. "Why would I be shirtless in the Mongolian winter?"
Riley elbowed Rudra. "See? Logic."
Rudra glared at him. "Shut up."