The entire Loki Familia, this precise war machine, switched from a weary expeditionary force into a steel lion ready for battle within mere seconds.
"Riveria!"
Suddenly, Finn shouted toward the rear.
Almost without thinking, without needing any superfluous explanation, Riveria closed her eyes, and her cold, elegant voice began to echo across the entire 27th floor.
An ancient, sacred incantation belonging to the High Elves began.
"Harbinger of the end, white snow. Face the twilight, and whip up the winter gale!"
The temperature of the air plummeted drastically the moment the first syllable dropped.
Everyone clearly felt a bone-piercing chill frantically spreading in all directions from beneath Riveria's feet.
"Closed light, frozen earth!"
A massive, complex magic circle constructed from countless ice-blue runes abruptly unfurled beneath her feet.
The magic circle was so gorgeous, yet so frigid, as if the entirety of the harsh northern winter had been condensed into this small square of space.
A clear, teeth-aching sound of freezing echoed in the air.
Visible frost-white cold air surged out from the magic circle like living vipers; wherever it passed, all life withered.
The verdant moss on the ground instantly turned into ice sculptures, and the mist permeating the air condensed into countless tiny ice crystals, reflecting the dim light of the Dungeon as if a diamond snow was falling.
However, this soul-freezing cold did not leak toward her Familia companions in the slightest.
"Blizzards covering the sky, three harsh winters—"
Accompanied by the final line of the chant, Riveria's eyes snapped open.
"My name is Alf!"
Magic, activate!
—Wynn Fimbulvetr!
In that instant, the world seemed to have been muted.
A terrifying, absolute frost-white torrent rocketed into the sky from the magic circle, yet it didn't spread outward; instead, under Riveria's precise control, it coalesced into a beam of white light, crossed hundreds of meters, and struck the eerie blue magic flower in the center of the lake with flawless precision.
Centered on that blue flower, the entire massive lake was thoroughly frozen over in less than a second.
The lake's surface, originally churning from the waterfall's impact, instantly solidified into an enormous, mirror-smooth expanse of ice radiating a chilling aura.
Even the lower half of the majestic "Great Fall" descending from the heavens was caught in this terrifying cold, freezing in midair into a spectacular cliff of ice.
Yet, this ice cliff held for less than a second before it was violently shattered by the unstoppable, massive impact of the water above, turning into a sky full of ice shards that crashed thunderously onto the solid ice surface below.
But this was merely the aftershock caused by the dissipating cold.
The true core of the magic, that beam of pure white extreme cold, had sealed that bizarre blue magic flower, along with dozens of meters of lake water beneath it, into a crystal-clear, unmelting tomb of ice.
This was the true strength of Orario's strongest mage, Riveria Ljos Alf, the one crowned with the title of "Nine Hell".
Seeing the strange blue magic flower thoroughly encased in ice by Riveria's magic—which was capable of freezing all things—the younger generation of adventurers like Ais Wallenstein and Lefiya couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.
The unprecedentedly grave expression on Finn's face moments ago had genuinely terrified them.
But in their hearts, Riveria's magic was synonymous with victory and safety.
Whether it was world-destroying attacks, impenetrable defenses, or miraculous healing, the High Elf royal had never let her companions down.
However, in stark contrast to the juniors' relief, Finn's complexion remained incredibly awful.
Because that small thumb of his was still transmitting a needle-like, piercing pain that felt as if it were drilling into his soul.
His intuition's warning hadn't weakened in the slightest despite the target being frozen solid.
It wasn't just Finn; Riveria and Gareth beside him equally showed no signs of relaxation.
They gripped their respective weapons tightly, poised to strike, focusing all their attention on that thoroughly frozen expanse of the lake.
At their level, they no longer needed to rely entirely on Finn's intuition.
They could clearly feel it themselves—that bone-chilling sense of crisis that made the hair on their bodies stand on end, as if they were being stared down by a natural predator.
A faint, almost imperceptible sound of cracking shattered the battlefield's silence.
At this moment, all members of the Loki Familia—vanguard, mid-guard, and rearguard alike—reacted as if facing a mortal foe, their eyes locked deathly onto the vast frozen lake.
Crack... crack, crack, crack...
The sound grew denser, louder.
On top of the several-meter-thick solid ice, capable of withstanding the full-force blow of a First-Class Adventurer, spiderweb-like cracks were frantically spreading in all directions from the frozen center.
The fissures were so ferocious, so bottomless, as if something was about to break out of its cocoon from within that absolute-zero prison.
The next second, accompanied by a deafening roar, the entire frozen surface of the lake violently exploded.
Countless massive, blade-like blocks of ice skyrocketed into the air, tracing arcs of despair before smashing heavily back down.
And that eerie blue magic flower, originally sealed at the very bottom, abruptly bloomed with an unprecedented, resplendent light amidst the shattered ice.
A pillar of blue light, formed purely of magical energy, shot up with unstoppable momentum, effortlessly shattering the ice cliff above that had been created by the aftershock of Wynn Fimbulvetr, dyeing the entire 27th floor in a dreamy, yet dangerous shade of blue.
The pillar of light slowly dissipated.
Amidst that expanse of broken, floating ice and lingering cold mist, a figure quietly materialized.
It was a young man with messy, short orange hair as warm as the setting sun, and a pair of blue eyes resembling the deep sea—seemingly calm, yet harboring an endless vortex.
He wore a stylish grey coat with an asymmetrical design over a black turtleneck, and a vibrant crimson scarf wrapped around his neck like dancing flames.
A small, red mask-like earring adorned his left ear, adding a touch of cynical mystery to his demeanor.
He looked to be around twenty years old, wearing a lazy, relaxed smile on his face, resembling a traveler who had stumbled into this place and was simply enjoying the journey.
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