Joachim tapped his cane against the ground.
The sharp crack of wood striking stone echoed in the air, just like it had the first ti he disappeared with the carriage.
A faint circle of light spread beneath our feet.
At first, it was no more than a thin white outline, but intricate patterns quickly blood outward—ancient symbols weaving into one another, lines bending and twisting like living things. The air grew heavy. Cold. Electric.
The sa magical ritual unfolded around us.
White light began to rise from the circle, wrapping around our legs, then our waists. Joachim’s hand rested firmly on my shoulder, steady and unshaken, while Elena stood close on my other side. I could feel the tension in her posture even though she tried to hide it.
"Don’t resist it," Joachim said calmly. "Let the mana pass through you."
As if answering his words, a trendous flow of mana surged upward.
It wasn’t painful.
It wasn’t even uncomfortable.
It was overwhelming.
The energy poured into us like a roaring river bursting through a narrow channel. My skin prickled. My bones vibrated faintly. The light intensified until it swallowed everything—Joachim, Elena, the sky, the ground.
White.
Nothing but white.
It was an inexplicable mont, but I could feel the movent of space directly within my body. Not outside of . Not around .
Inside.
As if my very existence had been montarily unanchored.
For a split second, it felt like my body was scattered into countless fragnts, only to be drawn back together by invisible threads. Yet I never lost awareness. I could still tell what was front and what was back, what was up and what was down.
Strangely enough...
I felt excited.
It was said that for those who experienced teleportation for the first ti in novels, their stomachs churned and their heads spun. But I felt none of that. No nausea. No dizziness.
Was it because this body had already surpassed human limits?
Or was it simply my perception sharpening in response to mana?
I couldn’t continue such doubtful thoughts.
The mont was extrely short.
In the next instant, the light vanished as if it had never existed.
Cold air struck my face.
The scent changed.
Instead of the faint sweetness of Count Kraus’s gardens, there was the crisp bite of winter. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness.
The world before was no longer Count Kraus’s estate.
Instead—
A vast courtyard stretched out beneath a dim sky. Snow drifted lazily from above, thin and delicate.
Ahead stood a magnificent white castle, its walls smooth and radiant even under the muted daylight. Behind it, rising higher than the surrounding structures, was a tall stone tower that pierced into the gray clouds.
It felt ancient.
And powerful.
"My territory."
Joachim’s voice carried quietly through the cold air.
"Welco to rrohim, Damian Kraus."
A small snowflake drifted down and landed softly on the tip of my nose. The chill snapped fully back to reality.
Elena inhaled sharply beside .
"...It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" she whispered.
It truly was.
---
"Wow."
The word slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
I didn’t even an to say it out loud, but the mont the view ca into sight, it felt like my chest had been pried open and filled with sothing too big to hold in.
I pressed my palm lightly against the cold glass of the window and leaned closer.
Outside, the city lay beneath a quiet blanket of white. Snow had settled along rooftops, clung to balconies, softened the sharp edges of streets and towers. The usual noise of the capital felt distant, muted, as if the world itself had lowered its voice out of respect for the season.
It was beautiful.
No—beautiful wasn’t enough. It felt unreal.
Even in Sarham, it snowed during winter. I had seen snow before. I had walked through it, kicked it aside, even complained about it when it soaked through my boots.
But this...
This felt different.
In Sarham, the snow always felt like a visitor—temporary, shallow, sothing that would lt away before you truly noticed it.
Here, in Edelweiss, it felt like the city belonged to winter. As if the snow had claid it long ago and simply returned every year to remind everyone of that fact.
"You look like you’ve never seen snow before."
I turned slightly at the voice behind .
"It’s not that," I said, though I didn’t take my eyes off the view. "I’ve seen it. Just... not like this."
A quiet chuckle answered .
"It’s heavier here," Joachim said. "And it stays."
I watched as a gust of wind swept across the street below, lifting fine powder into the air. It shimred faintly in the pale light of the afternoon sun.
As spring began to soften the cold, the snow was already thinning in so places. But I couldn’t help imagining what it must look like at the height of winter.
Would it pile up as high as the lower roofs? Would the streets vanish entirely beneath layers of white?
"I heard," I murmured, half to myself, "that if it weren’t regulated, the snow would bury half the city."
"That’s true," he replied. "The Tower of Dawn controls the accumulation."
I glanced back at him this ti. "Controls it how?"
"Magic formations," he said with a shrug. "Temperature balance, wind redirection. If they didn’t intervene, the snowfall from the northern currents would be... excessive."
Excessive.
I let out a quiet breath.
If this were Kraus instead of Edelweiss, the knights would have been forced out in groups at dawn, shoveling endlessly, clearing paths until their hands blistered and their shoulders ached.
I could almost picture it—lines of armored n grumbling under their breath while snow continued to fall as if mocking them.
Just thinking about it made shiver.
"It would be a nightmare," I muttered.
"For you, maybe," he teased. "I’d like to see you in a shovel squad."
I shot him a look. "You wouldn’t survive a day."
He laughed at that, raising his hands in surrender.
"It’s fortunate Kraus is in the South," I said more quietly.
There, winters were milder. Manageable. The snow ca, yes—but it never felt overwhelming.
Beyond the city walls, my gaze drifted further, toward the horizon.
The mountain range stood tall and silent, its peaks wrapped in perpetual snow. Even now, as spring crept into the lower lands, those mountains remained untouched—frozen, eternal, gleaming white against the sky.
They looked close enough to reach, yet impossibly distant.
"So high..." I murmured.
The Lunproud Mountains stretched endlessly across Sarham, their jagged peaks cutting through the sky like the teeth of so ancient beast.
From afar, the lower slopes were alive — forests thick with towering trees, their branches woven together so tightly that sunlight filtered through in fractured gold. Even from here, I could almost imagine the scent of damp soil and pine resin, the quiet hum of insects, the hidden movent of animals beneath the canopy.
Life thrived there.
But higher up...
Higher up, everything changed.
The world turned white.
The trees thinned, then vanished. The earth disappeared beneath layers of unmoving frost. Snow covered everything in such a perfect, undisturbed sheet that it looked like an unmarked canvas — untouched, unstained, rcilessly blank. No tracks. No movent. No sound.
It was so quiet that it felt wrong.
If soone unfamiliar with this place stood beside , they might laugh and say, There’s no way anything lives up there.
And honestly... I wouldn’t bla them.
But I knew better.
The wind that ca down from the mountaintop wasn’t just cold. It was violent. It tore through clothing, through skin, through bone. It wasn’t the kind of cold that nipped at your cheeks — it was the kind that tried to claim you. Freeze you exactly where you stood. Preserve you like a sculpture carved from fragile flesh.
I pulled my coat tighter around , though it did little good.
Even from this distance, I could feel it.
Yet there were creatures that lived there.
Monsters.
Beasts.
And sothing far greater.
"A dragon..." I muttered under my breath, watching a faint swirl of snow dance near the summit.
My voice sounded small against the mountain.
It had been hundreds of years since humans had stepped foot that high and returned alive. The peak remained untouched, almost sacred in its hostility. And sowhere near the highest ridge, beyond the clouds that clung to the cliffs—
It lived.
"I probably won’t et it right away," I said quietly to myself. "But... it feels good to know it’s there."
The dragon of Mount Pelioros.
The end of the sky.
In the novel, it wasn’t portrayed as so mindless calamity. It wasn’t a tyrant that burned cities for sport. It was arrogant — of course it was. All dragons were. It possessed strength that could level kingdoms and pride that rivaled the mountains themselves.
But it wasn’t evil.
If anything, it was... righteous.
It protected the world in its own way. It despised corruption. It crushed true evil without hesitation. And though it rarely involved itself in human affairs, when it did, history shifted.
And most importantly—
It would one day beco Elena’s teacher.
I let out a slow breath, watching it fog in front of .
"Elena..." I murmured.
Five... maybe six years from now, she would climb that mountain. Broken. Desperate. Determined.
And she would et it.
Right now, though?
It was probably asleep.
Dragons often slept for years at a ti, their enormous bodies coiled within ancient caverns carved by their own claws. I could almost picture it — scales like pale silver reflecting faint moonlight, wings folded, breath slow and steady as frost gathered with each exhale.
Waiting.
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