In extre environnts—especially in this desolate, frozen land—Terrans are often more dangerous than wild beasts.
Beasts only seek to eat. Terran motives? They're impossible to predict.
Carnelian's hand rested on the hilt of her Sword Arts Unit. Felix stood calmly in front of Avdotya, shielding her without a word. She was just a high school girl—fragile, unard. Carnelian had saved her once already. It was their job to keep her safe.
"Ah, a fire. That's nice—feels warm just being near it."
"Hey! Can't you read the mood? Don't we sound like the villains here?"
"…Fine."
Before Felix or Carnelian could speak, the approaching group was already talking amongst themselves. Their tone wasn't tense or guarded like strangers eting in the wild—it was casual, familiar. Clearly, they were companions who'd been through a lot together.
Their uniforms matched. Not perfectly—each coat had minor differences, signs of wear and tear, nding patches, older layers showing through beneath—but the general cut and function were the sa.
Infected NPCs from a settlent? Maybe. But Felix had his doubts.
He eyed the weapons slung across their backs and strapped to their sides. From a craftsman's perspective, these weren't the makeshift tools of ordinary infected survivors. Their gear was refined—solid quality. A cut above anything he'd seen in other settlents.
"Which settlent are you from?" he asked, his hand still resting on his pistol, voice steady.
"Ooh, a Sankta out here in the cold. You're even better-looking up close… Might be my type," one of the won chid in playfully.
"Petrova! Shut it. The captain hasn't even said a word yet."
"No way we're starting a fight. We're not the bad guys here."
Before things escalated, the woman at the front—clearly their leader—spoke up. "Put down your weapons. We'll rest here for the night."
At her command, the group unstrapped their gear and lowered their hoods. So grinned as they moved closer to the fire, settling in with practiced ease.
"My codena is Frostnova. This is my squad," the leader said, her gaze fixed on Felix. She nodded respectfully. "We just want to warm up. It's nearly impossible to start a fire out in this snow."
Her voice was calm, her explanation direct. But sothing about her tone—cool, distant—gave Felix pause. It wasn't just the weather. She carried the cold in her voice, like soone molded by the relentless blizzards of northern Ursus.
Still, he didn't protest. The mont they'd disard, the tension had dropped significantly.
Frostnova said no more. She returned to her team without another word and sat quietly, pulling dry rations from a small bag. The food was hard as stone—frozen solid by the bitter wind.
She didn't complain. She just ate.
Several mbers of the team began setting up tents, while others quietly ate their dry rations. No one complained. Their movents were thodical, practiced—this kind of life was routine for them.
Avdotya returned to Felix's side. Her gaze lingered on the people in matching coats, but seeing that neither Felix nor Carnelian looked tense, she gradually relaxed.
The second pot of broth was soon ready. The aroma of simring at drifted from the small holes in the lid, carried by the wind through the forest.
Frostnova's squad noticed imdiately. The mont the scent hit the air, stomachs began to growl audibly. It wasn't that they never ate at—back at camp, they did. But on missions like this, they only packed dry food. Hunting and cooking in the woods was a luxury they rarely had ti for.
Since there was broth to spare, Felix filled a few more cups and walked toward the resting squad.
Frostnova caught the scent and looked up. Her eyes remained cold and unreadable, like ancient ice that refused to lt.
As he drew near, Felix felt a sudden chill—sharp, biting cold radiating from her body. Even with his coat's anti-freeze buffs, the air around her seed to cut straight through. An Originium Arts? he wondered. Probably. That intense chill was too unnatural to be re weather.
Given that they were a small strike team operating deep in the north, Felix was confident in his assessnt: they were infected, and she—clearly their leader—possessed an Originium Arts, likely one related to ice.
"…I won't need that. Thank you," Frostnova said, turning down the offer without hesitation. "Give it to soone else."
But her squad didn't wait to be asked twice. Several of them ca over with smiles, nodding and thanking Felix profusely as they took the cups. One sip of the hot broth and their expressions softened. In this frozen forest, a warm drink was a rare gift.
The mood shifted subtly. Tension had already eased since they arrived, but this small act helped break down the last barrier. Suspicion was replaced with sothing closer to camaraderie.
Felix's skill with words wasn't just learned—it was sharpened by years of business dealings in his previous life. He knew how to speak, when to act, and what small gestures could shift people's impressions.
The first impression, though—that depended on charm.
And Felix had plenty. With his charm stat sitting at 40, and his angelic appearance, he was the very image of calm in the storm. Even strangers instinctively felt a sense of safety around him.
That's why this ard squad, despite everything, didn't hesitate to take what he offered.
"I haven't asked your na," Frostnova said at last.
"Codena: Pioneer."
Across the fire, they locked eyes.
"It seems this is your first ti in northern Ursus," she said.
"That's right," Felix replied. "I've seen many infected settlents before—but few as well-equipped as yours."
He knew who she was.
From the mont she said her na, mories had returned—clear, unshakable.
Lungn, in his past life.
Snow falling endlessly.
A final stand of the Yetis.
And her—alone at the front.
Felix had seen it all before. He rembered her ending—the final stand, her fall, and the warmth she felt at the end. It had been a perfect curtain call.
Even if they were portrayed as villains, even if they bore the mark of the Reunion Movent, their dreams were still worthy of respect—worthy of being followed by the infected.
"Don't co too far north, traveler. This isn't a place for you," Frostnova said calmly. She pulled out a candy from her pocket and popped it into her mouth. "Ursus doesn't welco outsiders."
"Thanks for the warning. I'm just a ssenger, a rchant, and a craftsman," Felix replied evenly. "I ca to Ursus for work."
"Craftsn? That's rare," Frostnova responded. "Out here in the frozen plains, any profession that can survive is a rare one."
"I can maintain your equipnt."
Felix didn't hesitate—he went straight to the point. "I took a quick look earlier. Your gear is a bit worn. Understandable, considering how hard it is to maintain anything in this environnt. But I've got so materials I haven't traded off yet. For a fair price, I can help out."
He'd done this kind of thing before—back in Brother Han's settlent. Plus, his in-ga shop carried skill books for craftsman and blacksmith classes, both extrely popular among players. In a wasteland like this, logistics ant survival. That's why players in Ursus had started copying strategies from the veterans in Kazdel.
One of the Yeti team mbers, who had just finished enjoying his candy, perked up. His eyes lit up, and he quickly unwrapped his weapon and walked over to Felix.
"Mr. Pioneer, you're a craftsman? Could you help repair my blade?"
Frostnova said nothing—she simply nodded in quiet approval.
Felix gave a small nod and went to the back of the Truck, returning with his toolbox. Back by the campfire, he took the long blade and examined it.
Soon, several others gathered around. Felix quickly learned their nas. Petrova, the first one who'd spoken earlier. Then there was Greg, and another mber called Big Bear.
The nas fit Ursus well—blunt, sturdy, unmistakably local.
"Don't you have craftsn back at your settlent?" Felix asked.
Petrova answered, pulling back her hood to reveal a young face full of energy and spirit. "We do. The problem is materials. There's nothing in the snowfields. Mines are heavily guarded, and towns won't trade with us. We're stuck relying on the black market."
"Trade exists between settlents," Big Bear added, watching Felix's hamring movents with sothing like awe. "But minerals are the rarest. Food and warm clothing co next."
Felix nodded in agreent. "Before anything else—tools, weapons—survival cos first."
Out here in the snowfields, Ursus's official currency, chervonets, ant nothing. Just like in the player-run settlents, barter was the norm.
The weapons had seen better days—their durability was low, but they weren't rare or complicated to fix. The materials needed were common, easily replaced with scraps Felix often recycled during his own forging.
As for paynt, he wasn't concerned. After finishing repairs for the rest of the team, he turned his attention to Frostnova.
The mont he stepped closer, a biting cold surrounded him.
Felix frowned. His background in Originium Arts gave him sharper insight than most—he could see the traces of Originium spreading across her body. The symptoms were bad. He understood the condition, but he wasn't a doctor, and he couldn't treat it.
With that in mind, he returned to the Truck truck under Frostnova's quiet gaze. Her teammates watched with puzzled expressions, unsure what he was doing. Monts later, he ca back to her with a small bottle in his hand.
"Using Originium Arts constantly is only worsening your condition," Felix said, eting her gaze. "This is a Oripathy blocker—Columbia's latest formula. It helps suppress the pain caused by crystallization."
Frostnova didn't move, just stared at him.
"We t by chance, and this bottle doesn't matter to . But it might make a difference for you."
He tossed the bottle toward her. She caught it carefully, without taking her eyes off him.
"...Why?" she asked, voice cold but wary. "Why give sothing so valuable?"
She narrowed her eyes. "I shouldn't say this, but I doubt your intentions. It could be poison, Mr. Pioneer."
"I'm Sankta," Felix said plainly. "Helping others is in our nature."
Persuasion.
Wit
Frostnova didn't respond. She stood silently, watching him return to the workbench and resu hamring and polishing her rapier.
The rhythmic sound of tal on tal echoed through the forest, and for a mont, she found herself fixated on it. Her gaze dropped to the dicine in her hand—the label clearly marked with its origin and formula. This was sothing she could never afford on her own. Even finding it would be a miracle.
And he had just given it to her.
"Your Oripathy is not getting worse yet," Felix said over his shoulder. 'at least, it hasn't progressed too far. It's still 1090... The Reunion Movent doesn't make their move until 1096 or 1097. She's still early in the infection.'
Even so, whenever she activated her Arts, the freezing grip of Ursus's winter radiated from her entire body.
"You already know what happens when you overuse Originium," Felix added calmly.
"You're not the one to warn us, Mr. Pioneer," Frostnova said, voice level. "What do you know about the infected?"
Despite her words, she quietly opened the bottle, took out a pill, and placed it on her tongue.
She swallowed it without hesitation.
"Because I hold a doctorate in Originium. Believe —I'm a professional."
Felix gripped the hilt of the repaired rapier and handed it back to Frostnova. "Your body temperature has been consistently below average. That's a result of prolonged Originium usage. It's putting too much strain on your system. If you keep this up, you might not live past thirty."
"I don't need you worrying about my life."
"Take another pill and get so sleep. You'll feel better by morning." Felix ignored her tone completely. "As for the night watch, the drones will handle it."
As he spoke, several drones buzzed obediently into formation behind him, hovering briefly before dispersing into the dark woods—just long enough for Frostnova to see them clearly.
Frostnova didn't reply. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she watched Felix walk away without looking back. A few seconds later, she turned and returned to her spot.
Petrova gave her a curious look. Frostnova snorted lightly, twisted open the bottle, and placed another pill on her tongue.
She swallowed it silently.
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