Robert stood on the edge of the broken cliff, his cloak flapping quietly in the cold wind. The entire upper mine was gone.
Everything had vanished and the land ahead had changed.
The symbolic ice walls—those great frozen pillars that once guarded the mine—were shattered. Only fragments remained, scattered like broken glass over the snow.
In their place was a massive crater, deep and wide, like the maw of some ancient beast. The hole led straight into the heart of the mine. The inner tunnels were still there—dark, deep, and filled with silence. But Robert didn't feel relief. He felt dread.
"This isn't good," he muttered, his breath fogging up.
The air around him shimmered with rich ice mana. It wasn't just cold. It was alive. Denser than anything he'd ever seen. Blue sparks danced over the snow, whispering in a language only magic could understand.
He turned and looked around.
