Chương 49: The Beginning of the Last Hurdle

High inside the silent ice dome, Stelle standing on the frozen stone floor. She had no clear memory of crossing into the second Sequence. Under standard protocols, advancing to Sequence 2 required to have at least two Tier 3 Frost Cores materials that she currently simply did not possess. Yet the evolution had occurred regardless, forced open by something beyond standard rules. The lingering mana in this place, Stelle realized. Lilian's residual power maybe made the impossible to happen.

She look down observing her body. The small frame of a twelve-year-old girl was gone. Her arms and legs were longer, her chest had filled out, and her whole body felt different. Advancing to Sequence 2 hadn't just gave her new skill or expand her energy capacity but also it had physically aged her several years in an instant again. By her calculations, each evolution added roughly five years to her body—since her first had taken her from seven to twelve, she was now likely seventeen in her current form.

She reached up and touched her silver hair. It now reach her waist in long, bright waves that caught the dim light of the ice dome. Her torn black cloak now hung tightly on her taller frame, leaving her legs exposed to the air. Stelle held out her hands and flexed her slender fingers. I'm not a small child anymore, she thought, taking a step forward to test her new balance. The weakness of her old body was completely gone, replaced by a deep strength hidden under her skin.

"I need to get used to this now," she said aloud, letting her voice out to test her new tone. It sounded clearer, carrying a mature resonance that matched her changed body. After balancing and moving around, she decided it was time to look for the other changes. She opened her interface's Utility Tab, which held two new utilities and an upgrade for her Frost Manifestation.

[New Utility: Overclock] Effect: Temporarily bypasses all system safety limiters, forcing system core and synthetic musculature to operate at 300% efficiency. While Active: Generates extreme core heat due to rapid energy gathering and conversion. Aftereffect: Triggers Heat Exhaustion. Movement speed and reaction times reduced by 50% until excess thermal energy is purged. A double-edged tool. Tripling her output came at a dangerous physical cost, demanding strict, calculated control. Overclock…

It's my first utility to have an after effect. She didn't linger, looking instead at the slot where Frost Manifestation had been. [Glacial Genesis] So this is it... the true form of Lilian frost power. She held up her left hand, palm open. Without a word or a push, a line of bright frost rose from her skin. The response was instant.

Her old frost manifestation felt like forcing her frost mana out of her body, but this felt entirely natural—colder at its center, but soft and responsive at the edges, as if her power now moved as one. Lilian said that this power could end the Guardian, Stelle thought, closing her hand into a tight fist. I wonder how it will defeat something that cannot be killed. For a moment she let herself a quiet moment before looking back at her interface.

The other addition, a Utility Upgrade function, which let her systematically strip away the limiters on her existing utilities. She skimmed the rest—expanded energy capacity, open utility slots, and especially her core classification shifting from Standard to Growth. [System Core: Adaptive Growth] [Growth Module Status: ACTIVE] Does this mean I can manually expand my core capacity now, without waiting for a system upgrade? She asked herself. If so then it will be a significant change. It was a game-changing shift.

Instead of waiting for another sequence, she could manually expand her core capacity—giving her a crucial edge in prolonged battles and more resources to develop new utilities or gears. But she set the thought aside. There was work to finish first. Lilian's final request was simple: kill the Guardian and end the Snow Fae's ancient curse. But to honor that wish, she needed a weapon powerful enough for the task. Stelle opened her [Development Tab].

The blueprint she had drafted long ago surfaced on the screen—the Light Thrusting Sword. Cael's black blade was never built for a large target. I need reach to do something significant against it. Now that I have enough energy, I can finally develop this weapon.

"System," Stelle whispered into the quiet dome.

"Forge the original Light Thrusting Sword." [Development Tab: Gear] [Objective: Light Thrusting Sword] [Primary Material: Space Capsule Hull] With a subtle mental command, Stelle summoned the earth's ultimate alloy fragment from her spatial storage. The heavy slab of metal floated before her, suspended in midair. She activated her Development Tab, channeling raw power into the metal fragment. Invisible forces closed around the metal like a forge—superheating, compressing, and folding it layer upon layer.

What would take a master smith years was compressed into mere hours. Driven by her deepened energy reserves, the process moved with fluid precision. Invisible hammers shaped every curve, fuller, and edge, crafting a very durable weapon guided entirely by her intent. When the forging light finally receded, a slender, exquisite dual-edged blade levitated before her. Stelle reached out her right hand and closed her fingers around the hilt. The balance was absolute.

Where Cael's black blade had demanded physical compromise, this weapon felt like a natural extension of her own. Every millimeter of its length responded instantly to the subtle shifts in her grip. To complete the sword, Stelle dragged her index finger along the steel, inscribing her custom Rune Arts into the fuller. Lines of brilliant blue mana burned directly into the metal guided by her development tab utility, forming a complex sequence of vector runes.

She remembered Sierra's teachings—the very lessons that had finally allowed her to create a Rune Art capable of levitating anything at her will. They flared once with radiant turquoise light, then settled into a soft, steady pulse beneath the surface. Stolen novel; please report. Stelle looked at the blade and examined the exquisite runes etched into it, admiring her beautiful creation. She stood, sheathed the weapon at her waist, and walked out of the ice dome into the harsh environment.

She felt the cold wind, but she was no longer too weak to endure it. Approaching one of the narrow edges of the mountain, Stelle looked down. The vertical drop to the lower foothills was immense; navigating the frozen mountain passes on foot would take far too long. I need to go down faster. With a single thought, she unsheathed the white sword and tossed it into the open air. The blue runes on the blade lit up, locking the sword in place so it floated stably off the edge of the cliff.

Stelle stepped into the empty sky without hesitation. Her boots landed lightly on the flat of the levitating steel. She shifted her weight, sending a pulse of mana into the etched runes. The sword moves forward like an arrow released from a bow, plunging straight into the blizzard. Stelle stood calmly atop the flying steel, perfectly upright as the mountain gale whipped her waist-length silver hair, cutting through the clouds toward the lower slopes at terrifying speed.

Below the central peak, a figure moved slowly through the valley, trailing a giant beast. He kept quiet, careful not to reveal his position. The young commander within the Riftwalkers, Valen. He knew the local legend. The hushed stories spoken across the northern frontier told of the Guardian of Mourning Ridge—an Ancient Mana Beast that had roamed these peaks for centuries as a sacred protector, a lingering sentinel from an era before modern kingdoms drew their borders.

But, what Valen had witnessed over the last few days shattered those romantic tales entirely. Three days ago, while searching for the little girl the adventurers had mentioned, an explosion near the central peak caught his attention. The roots of the mountain groaned as a massive avalanche roared down the upper valley, burying pine forests under thousands of tons of ice and stone. He moved without hesitation toward the crash site. The landscape was wiped clean, trees crushed beneath the heavy snow.

Yet beneath the rubble, he felt a surge of terrifying energy—something far beyond any normal beast or corrupted entity. Then, erupting from the ice, a massive beast rose before him, barely recognizable. The Guardian. It was no longer a majestic protector. The Dark Star's pitch-black corruption had claimed it completely. Spikes of purple glass protruded like sickles from its spine, dark fluid seeped from its hide, and its glowing violet eyes burned with mindless malice.

Recognizing the immediate danger, Valen stepped in to neutralize it. Over the following days, he locked the corrupted Guardian in a rhythm of clash and retreat, probing its limits with high-tier martial techniques and fluid elemental weaving. He had severed its limbs. He had split its throat. He had even driven his longsword straight through its sternum, directly into its core. None of it stopped the creature.

Every time Valen delivered what should have been a fatal blow, the beast violently pulled the surrounding ice and snow into its wounds, rebuilding its flesh and bone in seconds. Valen had the speed and spatial awareness to outmaneuver the beast effortlessly—it simply couldn't hit him. Yet he couldn't kill it. Its relentless regeneration made it nearly immortal, leaving him without a way to finish the fight. Realizing a prolonged battle would only drain his mana, Valen backed off.

He pivoted to containment and called for reinforcements via his device. If they couldn't kill it, they had to seal or restrain it away. Letting a corrupted beast of this scale roam free would spread the taint to nearby wildlife and threaten the entire northern ridge. Now, standing atop a boulder, Valen continued tracking the beast while waiting for the other Riftwalkers. But as he followed, he noticed something odd about its behavior.

It was retracing its path back toward the central peak where the exact spot the avalanche had swept it down. Had that explosion been caused by someone? He wondered. Valen looks at the peak thinking what possibly the beast is seeking for. If it isn't wandering, Valen noted, his sharp eyes following its track. Then maybe it's looking for something above. He thought of the girl he had originally been looking for. After finding no trace of her, he had reluctantly concluded he was too late.

He hated making assumptions, but the beast's overwhelming power made it impossible for a Tier 1 child to survive. He had wanted to search for her—or whatever remained—but his priorities shifted the moment he encountered the corrupted beast. Neutralizing a threat of this scale had to come first, ahead of searching for a child who was likely already gone. Maintaining a strict fifty-yard distance, Valen kept his calm posture, stepping quietly through the snow so as not to draw the creature's attention.

Suddenly, something caught his attention. His head snapped upward. Valen's hand instinctively reach the hilt of his blade, and then— Whoosh. He saw a figure streaked through the air toward them—no, its trajectory shifted. It was diving straight for the giant beast. A blinding streak of white and silver light sliced straight down through the storm clouds, cutting through the blizzard with the deafening roar of tearing air. The Guardian noticed the incoming threat, but its massive body couldn't react in time.

Before the Guardian could raise its massive arm, the descending figure slammed into the top of its head. BOOM! A shockwave exploded. Snow blew back in a wide ring, sweeping right over Valen's position. He raised his left arm, calmly shielding his eyes as a thick white mist engulfed the beast. When the snow mist cleared, Valen looked up, his stoic composure breaking for the first time. The Guardian was on its knees, its massive limbs buckled into the shattered ground under an immense, suffocating weight.

Impaled vertically through the exact center of its skull was a pristine, pale white sword. The blade was driven deep into the hardened bone, its glowing blue runes humming. And standing atop that sword was a figure. Valen stared, his mind racing to process the sight. A young woman stood perched upon the tiny pommel of the white sword, balancing effortlessly on the tip of her toe. She possessed absolute, calm composure, as if resting upon the hilt of a blade driven into a monster's skull was routine.

Her long silver hair flowed in the mountain gale like a banner of pure frost, contrasting sharply with the white terrain. She wore a small black cloak wrapped around her upper frame barely concealing her legs—a garment reduced almost entirely to rags, torn and heavily scorched by black burns. Yet the ruin of her attire did not diminish her presence; it gave her the imposing air of a sovereign who had walked through hell unscathed.

Her eyes—clear, cold, and shining with an unnerving, glowing blue—looked down at the thrashing beast beneath her feet. Stelle did not glance at him. Her focus remained entirely on the Guardian.

"We meet again," Stelle murmured, her soft voice cutting cleanly through the storm. She looked at its eyes before leaping clear, she flipped backward through the air and commanded the sword to rip free from its skull, recalling it to her hand. Landing cleanly, Stelle took a low stance and lashed out in a sweeping strike against the monster's neck, nearly severing its head in a single blow.

Without breaking momentum, she sprang back into the air, driving a follow-up slash across the back of its neck to finish the decapitation. Before she could touch down, her sword glided beneath her feet once more. The massive head crashed to the frozen ground. Stelle landed lightly on the flat of the levitating blade, posture impeccably straight, gaze fixed on the beast. It's not over. This was merely the beginning. The Guardian did not fall.

Instead, the severed head on the ground dissolved into snow, surging back toward the monster's neck to rebuild itself. The bone, flesh, and frost pulled tightly together until the head was fully reformed. The beast's head turned to her position, locking its hollow purple eyes on the floating figure above before unleashing an earth-shattering roar—a shockwave that blasted the swirling snow around the place. Stelle stood motionless atop her blade while the force was pushing her floating figure slightly.

The gale whipped her long silver hair wildly behind her, but her blue eyes remained entirely serene.

"I'm sorry..." Her calm voice cut cleanly through the fading echoes.

"That I killed Malkor." She raised her right hand, pointing her index finger at the monster's chest.

"But don't worry—I'll make sure the two of you meet again." The air around her hand buckled as mana imploded into a tight vortex at her fingertip. Compressed frost mana materialized into a pristine lance of absolute ice, humming with a high-pitched resonance that vibrated through the stone beneath it. Suddenly the Guardian went rigid. Its purple eyes dilated in terror as it recognized the ancient, divine cold—the same force that had created it a thousand years ago.

For the first time, the apex predator knew fear; despite the corruption devouring its entire being, its deepest instincts still remembered that power. It turned around, lunging backward to sprint down the slope. Stelle didn't give chase. She simply flicked her finger forward. The ice spear shattered the sound barrier with a sonic boom, blowing a tunnel through the blizzard. Closing a hundred yards in seconds, it impaled the Guardian's left shoulder and pinned its momentum to the snow.

An instant later, the spear exploded into a bloom of white frost, swallowing the entire limb. Crystalline veins of absolute cold began to crawl furiously toward its neck. Panicking, the beast bit ruthlessly into its own shoulder joint. With a sickening crunch, it severed its own frozen arm, tearing itself free before the ice reached it. It tumbled onto the snow, black fluid weeping from the stump as it dragged itself away. Stelle watched intently as the Glacial Genesis finished its work.

The severed limb didn't bleed or regenerate; the absolute-zero temperature crushed the abyssal energy. The arm turned translucent and shattered into tons of glowing dust particles that vanished into the wind. It erases the arm completely, Stelle realized, her system processing the data. A subtle, cold smile touched her lips. With a slight shift of her weight, her floating blade tilted downward, gliding through the storm as she began her pursuit.