The next morning, they finished off what was left of the Frostmane meat from the night before—chewy, overcooked, and tasting vaguely like regret wrapped in charcoal.
Kael chewed in silence, staring into the white haze of the mountain trail ahead.
Selene was already adjusting her gloves, ever efficient, ever silently judging.
Their journey resumed soon after, snow crunching beneath their boots as they began the slow climb again.
Kael had barely taken twenty steps before Selene's voice cut through the silence.
"Don't use your mana recklessly again," she said without looking back.
"If you collapse mid-fight this time, I'm not dragging you uphill."
Kael grumbled something about heroism and free will, but didn't argue.
Mostly because he was too busy shivering.
The wind bit harder the higher they climbed, slicing through his leather armor like it owed the cold money.
He glanced sideways at Selene.
She wasn't even flinching.
Her clothes were far from practical—short sleeves, high boots, light fabric that moved like mist.
And yet, no trembling.
No breath fog. No visible signs of being human.
Kael narrowed his eyes.
"Okay.
No offense, but are you a lizard or something?
How are you not freezing?
Don't tell me you've got a heating spell hidden somewhere."
Selene smiled—softly, annoyingly.
"No, Master," she said.
"I have high affinity with ice. Cold doesn't bother me."
He stared.
She continued, casually, "After Rank 3, I plan to pursue the Ice Path."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Choosing a… path?"
"Yes," she said, with a faint nod.
"Once a mage reaches Rank 3, they choose a specialization.
An elemental path.
It allows the body to adapt, mana to refine, and spells to synchronize.
Fire, ice, wind, shadow... You gather spells of that element, master them, become one with the nature of it."
She glanced at him sideways.
"Not like someone greedy enough to hoard every spell they find like shiny rocks."
Kael coughed, suddenly interested in the horizon.
"Sounds very... efficient," he muttered.
Here and there, Rank 1 beasts emerged from the snowbanks—mountain wolves, stray Frostmanes, a pack of grimlins bickering like goblin accountants.
Kael didn't wait for instructions this time.
No system quests. No glowing alerts.
So he simply cut them down.
The kills were clean, methodical—Moon Blade humming sharper each time.
Selene handled the stragglers with icy precision, stepping in only when needed.
A few of the grimlins screeched and tried to flee.
Kael watched one stumble and considered—briefly—using his taming card.
Then thought better of it.
He needed someone capable for his first beast.
Not something that looked like it lost a bar fight with a squirrel.
The silence between him and Selene stretched on as they hiked.
But it didn't feel heavy anymore.
Now and then their shoulders brushed.
Neither said anything.
He didn't notice when her steps slowed to match his.
She didn't notice when he subtly angled toward her in a fight.
They didn't talk about it.
Didn't need to.
Something was shifting.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Like ice forming over a still lake.
The soft crunch of approaching footsteps broke the hush of snowfall.
It was faint, distant—but wrong.
Too deliberate.
Kael and Selene froze mid-step.
The mountain had been deathly quiet until now.
The kind of quiet that settled into your bones.
The kind that warned you not to breathe too loudly.
Kael turned his head slightly. Selene was already glancing at him.
A shared look.
No words needed.
Something had changed.
Selene narrowed her eyes. "That's not a beast."
Kael's hand drifted instinctively toward his blade.
"Other climbers?" he asked under his breath.
"Maybe…" she muttered. "People seeking the inheritance."
Her gaze swept the snow-covered ridgeline.
And then—they appeared.
Figures in heavy cloaks, trudging forward through the white.
Young. Sharp-eyed. Their movements careful but confident.
On their shoulders: Silver insignias.
Glinting in the cold light.
Kael frowned.
"That crest…"
Selene tensed.
Her face shifted from curiosity to horror in a heartbeat.
She ducked behind him, tugged her hood low, and hissed,
"Shit. That's my class."
Kael blinked.
"Wait—your class?"
She groaned softly.
"Yeah. Elite division."
The wind picked up, flinging snow in gentle swirls around them. Selene didn't look up.
Kael stared at the group.
They moved in formation.
Disciplined.
Trained.
Not the kind of people who wandered into danger uninvited.
"But why would the Magic Academy send elites here?" he asked, brows furrowing.
"The inheritance?"
She shook her head, her voice low.
"No. Not normally.
Elites chase legends—spell vaults, world fragments, ancient libraries.
This mountain? It's barely a footnote. Unless..."
She paused.
Didn't finish her thought.
But Kael didn't need her to.
Something cold slid into place in his chest.
This wasn't some forgotten inheritance.
This wasn't small.
This was important.
Important enough to draw the academy's best.
His gaze sharpened, tracking every movement of the approaching figures.
A slow smile crept across his lips—dark, quiet, full of terrible intent.
If there's a treasure here…
Then only one person is leaving this mountain with it.
Me.
A breath passed.
Then, as if remembering something inconvenient but important, he glanced sideways.
Selene stood beside him—hood low, fingers twitching, unease written in every line of her posture.
Kael watched her for a moment.
Then sighed, internally.
…Maybe two.
Kael was mid-thought when a mocking voice broke the stillness like a cracked bell.
"Well, well… is that the traitor's daughter I see?"
Selene sighed, long-suffering.
Kael turned toward the voice.
Of course.
Adam.
The son of the Duke of the Northern Province.
Kael remembered him from Kaelion's memories—arrogant, loud, and shaped like nepotism in a fur cloak.
Adam's eyes swept over them.
Then, spotting Kael, he smirked wider.
"And look at this.
The magicless disgrace of House Drenlor.
Come to die on the mountain, I assume?"
Kael didn't blink.
This type always dies first,he thought.
Preferably with a dramatic scream and no one to mourn them.
Then Adam looked at Selene.
Or more accurately, her clothes.
His lips curled.
"What's this? A honeymoon hike?"
Kael didn't respond with words.
He simply stepped closer to Selene, pulled her snug against him, and let his hands rest—perhaps a little too confidently—on her hips.
"What if I say yes?" he said with a lazy smile.
Murmurs rippled through the group.
Eyes narrowed. Jealousy flickered.
Selene, to Kael's satisfaction and Adam's horror, didn't pull away.
In fact, she blushed.
Adam's jaw visibly locked.
He stepped forward, just about to spit some half-clever insult when a voice snapped like frost across glass:
"Enough."
A girl stepped out from the formation.
Regal. Composed.
Eyes sharp as drawn steel.
Elara—the king's daughter.
The Princess.
She shot Adam a look that made even him fall quiet.
Then she turned to Kael.
"Are you here for the inheritance?"
Kael blinked.
She was… radiant.
Golden hair, blue eyes, posture carved from command.
He stared, briefly mesmerized—
Then felt a sharp bite on his arm.
"Ah—!"
Selene had bitten him. Hard.
Kael coughed, straightened.
"Yes," he said, clearing his throat. "We're here for the inheritance."
A man from the back stepped forward.
Tall, calm, utterly unreadable.
"Then join us," he said simply.
Selene leaned in and whispered,
"Don't antagonize him. He's our master—a Rank 3 mage."
Kael gave a subtle nod.
Adam, of course, couldn't help himself.
"Why should they join—?"
The master didn't even look at him.
"Selene is one of our best mages. She's useful."
Kael considered.
Joining them might give me answers.
What they're really looking for. Who they fear.
Maybe even a chance to poison them all and walk away with the prize.
He paused.
Joking. Mostly.
The master would definitely see it coming.
He looked at Selene.
She nodded once.
Kael turned to the group.
"We're in."