Chapter 83: Reunion

Damon struggled to his feet, his legs heavy as lead, but obeying. The simple act of standing felt like a victory over death itself. His body wobbled for a moment, his vision blurring, but he forced his feet forward.

One step.

Another.

The dry crunch of his boots crunching on the snow echoed in the cave, accompanied by the steady creak of his bones and muscles readjusting.

The system window still glowed in his mind, reminding him of something obvious:

[HP: 1000/1000]

But Damon laughed, a weak, almost ironic sound.

“One hundred percent… my fuck,” he spat, feeling the sting in his ribs with every breath. “That number is just makeup…”

The pain throbbed in waves, and though his skin no longer split open in bloody fissures, every movement reminded him that his body had been torn apart from the inside. The cold didn’t recede either. He no longer shivered as before, but the sensation was like wearing invisible armor made of ice—hard, heavy, unwavering.

Still, he walked.

With each step, the darkness of the cave grew less dense, until a diffuse light began to seep through, reflected in the absolute white that dominated outside. Damon squinted as he reached the exit, the wind slashing his face with the force of a thousand razors.

He stopped at the mouth of the cave, staring.

Nothing.

No trees nearby, no path, no landmark to guide him. Just an endless plain of snow and storm, a white expanse that seemed endless. The gray sky blended into the ground, as if the world had been swallowed by the void.

Damon took a deep breath. The frigid air burned his lungs, but it didn’t kill him. Not anymore.

“Wonderful…” he murmured, the sarcasm diluted by the cold breath escaping his mouth. “I’m screwed.”

He ran his hand over his face, his fingers feeling stiff, but he forced himself to take the first step out of the cave. The snow gave way under his weight, the wind roared louder, and Damon, broken and lost as he was, kept going.

The wind roared against Damon’s small horns, dragging his wet hair back as if it wanted to tear him apart. Each step sank up to his shins, forcing him to expend energy he knew he didn’t have in abundance.

The avalanche had erased any trail, any trace of a path. He had no idea where he was, only that standing still meant turning into an ice statue before sunset—if the sun still existed behind that gray sky.

“Walk… just… walk,” he repeated like a mantra, trying to keep his mind focused on something other than the pain.

The cold still bit at his flesh, but now it was different. Instead of just consuming him, it seemed to speak to him. With each breath, the frozen air rushed in and dissolved into his icy mana. It was as if the entire blizzard was part of him, and he was part of it.

Even so, his body was fragile. His bones still ached, his muscles throbbed, and with every step he had to convince himself not to fall again.

“Esther…” he murmured, almost unconsciously. “You better not have left me alone, you… damn thing.”

He laughed to himself, a hoarse sound that the wind quickly carried away.

But the laughter died quickly. The void ahead seemed endless. He was surrounded by nothing but white.

And for the first time since waking, Damon wondered if there was any real chance of getting out of here alone.

A few miles away, the same storm enveloped a figure that advanced like a blade cutting through the ice.

Ester.

Her face was firm, her eyes squinted against the wind. The cold didn’t intimidate her, the snow didn’t slow her down. She pressed on as if the entire world were reduced to a single mission.

Damon’s spear was still strapped to her back, swaying gently with each step. It was more than an object. It was proof, a promise.

“You’re still there…” she murmured to herself, her eyes shining with an intense light.

She closed her eyes for a moment, stretching her senses. Damon’s aura was faint, almost nonexistent amidst the storm, but she had tracked worse. Each breath she took drew the cold around her, shaping it, refining it, until a direction emerged.

A thread. A spark of energy that wouldn’t fade.

She smiled faintly, almost imperceptibly.

“Idiot. Still fighting to live.”

Ester adjusted her cloak and began walking again, each step firmer than the last. The world might be nothing more than a white expanse, but for her, there was only one path.

The path to Damon.

The wind lashed the frozen forest like invisible whips, but Ester walked unperturbed. Her feet didn’t sink deeply into the snow; she glided, almost floated, on the white. Her cold, attentive eyes scanned every detail of the vastness, searching for something the storm tried to hide.

Damon’s spear in her back seemed to throb like a heart. It wasn’t just physical weight—it was as if the weapon carried an ingrained memory, an echo of his soul. Ester felt it with every step, and it was this sensation that kept her moving.

She knelt for a moment, running her gloved fingers over the soft snow. The footprints were almost erased, but her trained eye didn’t rely solely on sight. There were marks in the way the snow had been displaced, in the density of the compressed ice. She knew how to read it like others read a book.

“You were here…” she murmured, her lips forming a thin line. “And not so long ago.”

Her chest tightened, but she swallowed the sensation. She couldn’t afford to falter.

Ester closed her eyes, letting her breath harmonize with the storm. The cold became a part of her, a mirror of her very essence. Her icy mana spread like an invisible net, probing the void ahead.

That’s when she felt it.

A presence.

Faint, distant, but unmistakable.

Ester opened her eyes suddenly, her heart racing for a moment. Her first reaction was relief, almost an instinctive joy. Damon. It could only be Damon.

But then came the strangeness.

It wasn’t the aura she knew.

It was something… different.

The energy touching her perception was cold. Not the ordinary cold of the world, but a cultivated, molded cold, with spiritual density. A Cold Qi. Just like her own.

Ester froze in place, literally. The snow around her stopped falling for a few seconds, as if the storm itself had hesitated. Her eyes widened, fixed on the white void ahead.

“This is… impossible,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

She herself had walked a rare, lonely path. The Icy Qi wasn’t a gift anyone could attain. It was a burden, a curse she’d learned to transform into strength. There was no way Damon, with his lowly talent, his impulsive, careless ways, could have…

Her chest tightened, her throat dry.

But the sensation didn’t lie. The Qi was there. Real, raw, still immature, but pulsing like a newly awakened heart.

And it was identical to hers.

“Damon… what have you done?”

For the first time in a long time, Ester felt a different chill inside her—not one she controlled, but one born from within, a chill of uncertainty.

She closed her eyes again, sensing her aura more precisely. It wasn’t stable. The Qi wavered, like a flame that could still be extinguished at any moment. But it was there. Growing. Calling to her.

The wind roared around her, but Ester no longer heard it. Her world was reduced to that thread of icy aura pulsing in the distance.

And for the first time since entering the forest, she felt a real rush.

Her feet pressed harder against the ground, and she sprinted, the snow parting in gusts around her.

The cold was no longer an obstacle. It was a trail.

And each step brought her closer to the impossible truth that awaited her.

Ester ran like a shadow over the snow, her light footsteps effortlessly tearing through the white. Every distant crack, every gust of wind, every vibration in the icy aura guided her like a beacon. The cold bit everything around her, but within her, only the urgency grew.

The Icy Qi was getting closer and closer. Wavering, unstable, like a flame that could be snuffed out by the wrong breath of a storm.

Finally, the aura condensed before her.

The sight she encountered made her heart stop for a moment.

Damon sat at the foot of a gnarled tree, its trunk scarred by shards of ice that had formed around his body. His eyes were half-closed, his face pale and rigid as marble. His breathing was shallow. His lips were purple.

And the ground…

The ground around him was drenched in dark blood, a stark contrast to the white snow. The liquid froze in thin layers, turning into crimson crystals scattered around.

Ester felt something inside her waver.

It wasn’t just the sight of the blood. It wasn’t just his fragile state. It was the realization that that icy aura, so close to hers, was intertwining with the metallic scent of the blood like a frozen flower trying to bloom amidst the slaughter.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm. Her fingers trembled slightly before steadying themselves.

“Idiot…” she murmured, her tone low, filled with frustration and… relief. “How are you still alive?”

Ester took a step forward, the snow crunching beneath her boots. The wind seemed to quiet, as if even the storm awaited what was to come.

With a slow gesture, she extended her hand.

Her icy mana expanded in gentle waves, a dense, absolute cold that enveloped Damon’s body. For an instant, the contrast seemed contradictory: ice against ice. But soon the difference revealed itself. Damon’s cold was raw, jagged, like a newly forged, yet dull blade. Ester’s, on the other hand, was refined, polished, lethal.

And, as naturally as breathing, she devoured.

All the cold consuming Damon flowed into her outstretched palm. Like underground rivers being sucked into a single spring, the icy energy escaped his body and sank into her.

Ester’s eyes narrowed. It wasn’t just energy. It was the pain, the fear, the loneliness, and the darkness he had transformed into Qi. As she devoured it, she felt a glimpse of his struggle: the ice tearing at him from within, the desperation trying to crush him, the stubborn spark that kept him from breaking.

For a moment, she almost lost herself in the sensation.

But then she took a deep breath, steadying the technique.

Damon’s body reacted. His shoulders trembled, his muscles relaxed slightly, and his breathing became less ragged. The icy glow in his eyes slowly faded, giving way to an exhausted, but… human, emptiness.

Ester sighed, slowly letting her hand fall. Her gaze still fixed on him, somewhere between irritation and something she couldn’t name.

“You have no idea what you just did, do you?” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

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