Draconic Awakening

The party, healed and ready for the next hell they would face through the caverns, were led by Cleaver into the far more terrifying depths of the Obsidian Mesa.

The cursed mountains' inwards seemed to span for a long distance, having multiple caves, many Ragnar had no idea where they led. Sometimes he would even decide to ask the hotheaded hunter in front, and his usual reply was "death."

The young Lord disregarded his replies and sent the dancer up one of the tunnels, and when it met a dead end, another tunnel had a large pit of darkness and no other way to go forward. The other paths were simply blocked or already destroyed.

So, no matter how confused some would be when picking a path, they would eventually find the right road forward. At least that was what Ragnar thought.

Finally, the group entered an enigmatic place.

The narrow tunnels had ended, and a cavern much larger than the one where they had met the mutated Wendigos was before their eyes. However, this was not the thing that startled the party, but what coated the entire room—it was ice. Not snow, but utter ice.

The entire room, for as far as they could see, was covered by ice hills, ice pillars, spikes, spirals; the flooring, roofing, and walls all covered by thick layers of ice.

Stepping a foot into the strange domain seemed to even make them start to feel the freezing effect, like a strange enchantment.

Ragnar in particular was the most affected by this fact—he had no shirt on, and held his bare chest in the freezing effect of the enchanted freezing domain.

The young Lord held himself, letting out cold huffs of air through his nose while he scanned the entire ice domain, cursing the place under his breath.

Arya meanwhile turned her gaze to Cleaver, who had stopped leading them through the pathways.

"It's here."

With that one word, the party seemed to turn alert—all but Ragnar, who still trembled from the cold he felt. If they were in the same shoes, they would have done the same, right? Right?

Turning to his shadows, the dancer and prisoner seemed to be imitating him—or rather put, mocking him.

"Damned idiots," he muttered under his breath, catching the attention of the party.

To him, he was criticizing his shadows, but to them, he was senselessly… no, he was acting like a lunatic speaking to himself.

An awkward atmosphere held between the group for a moment before Arya broke it, saying,

"Ragnar… are you alright?"

Ragnar forced a grin. "Why don't you take off your clothes and ask me that same question?"

Klein frowned at his question and stepped right before Arya.

"That's not the way to speak to the princess. I'll remind you this only once. May I remind you this is a realm—there are no laws here, no one to punish me for killing a Lord if I did so, especially out of disrespect for the future heir to the throne."

Ragnar was unfazed, simply tilting his head and then speaking,

"Honour and law—those are all for dogs. I am not a dog. I hold the leash… I am not bound by the law, either in a realm or outside the realm. So please, attack me. I have already killed one man for his warm coat; I will gladly do it all over again."

Cleaver frowned at the tone of Ragnar's arguments. He opened his hand, ready to summon his blade into it, and—

"It's ok," Klein said, looking directly at Cleaver with a warning glance not to do anything irrational. It was hard for the idiot to comply, but he did, glaring at Ragnar with immense killing intent.

Klein turned back to Ragnar, bowing his head slightly as he took off the upper fur coat he wore over his clothing and stretched it out.

"I'm sorry, my Lord, for the disrespect. Please accept my upper coat."

Ragnar frowned. He was not going to be fooled by any of this mid-acting played by the party; from their gaze, he could already read through the entire situation and where he stood with them.

I can tell after we leave Wendigos Crust they will try to kill me, and that's probably why the princess lied to me about having a betrayal in her ranks—so that she will have every reason to kill me. Knowing she is the princess must be enough reason for her to try and kill me.

Ragnar was cautious taking the clothing of the honourable hunter and wearing it. The warmth it gave him was minimal, but luckily, he still appreciated it.

After the dispute was handled completely, the group began to walk through the ice cavern, slow and alert for any movement, and every dangerous beast they could find.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary for a while, and to some extent the guard of the party seemed to diminish. All but Ragnar.

Ragnar had stayed a long time in the maze of the crust, and being an enemy of comfort, he knew very much—when he was starting to get tired of the idea of being under danger, that's when something would strike.

But where?

Ragnar's gaze flew from left to right, darting around his section of the cavern, being the one at the far end of the group, and left in charge of protecting their rear.

He listened for any sounds out of the ordinary and finally, something came his way…

{Dancer: Underground—}

The message was a little too late for Ragnar to read the notification completely or even alert the others. However, he made sure to at least get himself some distance from the impact of whatever was coming.

A moment later, the ice flooring beneath the group cracked a few times and exploded, throwing large and small chunks of ice into the air—accompanied with members of the party—as a humongous beast emerged.

An ear-piercing shrill echoed through the entire cavern, the beast baring open its maws in dominance of the cave.

Ragnar, the only one that had escaped the blast radius of getting thrown into the air by the beast, found his throat going dry from the sight he saw. Shit! Shit! Shit!

"It's a Dreadling Tale Cover!" he yelled out, retreating back from the monster.

{Ding!}

{Grade 2 Dreadling detected}