Wind tore past Ethan's ears as Lyssara carried him upward through the collapsing dungeon shaft.
Stone slammed against invisible currents of frost and shattered into powder before it could touch them. Each beat of her wings sent spirals of icy mana swirling into the darkness below.
He clung to her without shame.
Dignity could be recovered later.
Falling to his death could not.
The air grew warmer.
Brighter.
Then—
They burst through the dungeon entrance.
Blinding daylight crashed into his eyes.
Ethan squinted, raising an arm instinctively.
When his vision cleared, the first thing he noticed was the silence.
Not natural silence.
The stunned, breathless kind.
Hunters.
Dozens of them.
Maybe more.
Emergency teams surrounded the dungeon perimeter — armored elites, barrier mages, tactical scouts perched along nearby rooftops. Blue containment sigils flickered across the ground where officials struggled to stabilize the collapsing gate.
And every single one of them was staring at him.
No.
Not at him.
At her.
Lyssara descended slowly, wings dissolving into drifting frost before her boots touched the earth. The temperature plummeted instantly; grass whitened, and a thin glaze of ice crept outward in a widening circle.
Several hunters staggered backward.
One dropped his weapon.
Ethan's feet hit the ground a moment later, though Lyssara's arm remained around his waist — steady, unyielding, unmistakably intimate.
He became painfully aware of just how close they were standing.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"What… is that?"
"That mana pressure… impossible…"
"Why is the boss outside the dungeon?!"
"Evacuate the civilians!"
"No sudden movements!"
Blades slid free of sheaths.
Spells ignited in trembling hands.
Ethan swallowed.
"Lyssara… everyone looks extremely nervous."
"They should," she replied calmly.
Her gaze swept across the hunters — and several physically flinched when it touched them.
It wasn't just power.
It was hierarchy.
Predator recognizing lesser predators.
A heavily armored man pushed through the front line, his cloak marked with the insignia of a high-ranking guild. Silver-threaded runes glowed faintly across his gauntlets — equipment worth more than Ethan had earned in ten lifetimes.
Guildmaster class, probably.
The man stopped a cautious distance away.
To his credit, he didn't draw his weapon.
But sweat beaded along his temple.
"…Identify yourself," he said, voice controlled but strained.
Lyssara did not answer.
Instead, she looked down at Ethan.
"Must I?"
He blinked.
"Apparently?"
The guildmaster's eyes twitched.
"You will address me," the man said, forcing authority into his tone, "before I classify you as a catastrophic threat."
Lyssara finally shifted her attention toward him.
The effect was immediate.
The guildmaster's breath hitched.
Mana pressure thickened, subtle but crushing — like the atmosphere had suddenly doubled in weight.
"I am Lyssara," she said. "Queen of the Ninth Frost."
The words fell gently.
The reaction was not.
Color drained from the man's face.
A mage somewhere behind him whispered, horrified:
"…A sovereign…"
"That level of suppression… those chains marks… She was imprisoned…"
"How is she free?"
The guildmaster's gaze snapped toward Ethan.
"And him?" he demanded. "Why is a civilian standing beside a calamity-class entity?"
Lyssara's arm tightened slightly around Ethan's waist.
Possessive.
Protective.
Both.
"He is not a civilian," she said.
"He is mine."
The sentence dropped into the crowd like a detonation.
Shock rippled outward.
Ethan felt about twelve dozen eyes land on him at once.
The guildmaster stared.
"…Explain."
Ethan opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"You're going to want to sit down for this," he said weakly.
Before the guildmaster could respond, another voice cut through the chaos.
"Incredible… simply incredible…"
A woman stepped forward from the rear formation, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as glowing instruments floated around her — scanning devices, mana spectrometers, recorder constructs.
A researcher.
Her eyes shone with naked fascination.
"Mana signature stable… synchronization present… impossible biological adaptation…" she muttered rapidly, circling them at a careful distance.
Then she looked straight at Ethan.
"Did you form a contract with the sovereign?"
Ethan hesitated.
Lyssara answered for him.
"Not a contract," she said.
"A marriage."
Silence.
Utter.
Absolute.
Somewhere in the back, a hunter choked.
The researcher dropped her stylus.
The guildmaster just… stared.
"…You married the boss?" he asked faintly.
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck.
"When you say it like that, it sounds weird."
"It IS weird!"
A younger hunter blurted, then immediately slapped both hands over his mouth.
Lyssara's gaze flicked toward him.
He nearly fainted.
The researcher recovered first, scrambling to adjust her instruments.
"This rewrites half of dungeon theory…" she whispered. "No — all of it…"
The guildmaster stepped forward, lowering his voice.
"You," he said to Ethan, "what is your rank?"
"…Porter," Ethan admitted.
"…Your awakened rank."
"I'm not awakened."
The man blinked once.
Twice.
Then turned slowly toward the researcher.
"Scan him."
She didn't hesitate.
A prism of light expanded from one of her constructs, sweeping across Ethan.
For half a second, nothing happened.
Then the device screamed.
Not beeped.
Screamed.
A violent metallic shriek tore through the air as sparks erupted from the construct.
The researcher yelped, stumbling backward.
"What happened?!" the guildmaster barked.
"It's overloading!" she cried. "His internal mana pathways are— that's not possible — they're rewriting themselves!"
The construct exploded in a harmless burst of light.
Everyone froze.
Ethan blinked.
"…Was that expensive?"
The researcher laughed shakily.
"It was designed to measure S-rank monsters…"
She looked at him with something bordering on awe.
"It couldn't quantify you."
A new window flickered into Ethan's vision.
Public Exposure Detected.Reputation Path Unlocked.
Current Title: Bridegroom of the Frost QueenNotoriety: Rising
He swallowed.
"Lyssara… what exactly happens when notoriety rises?"
"It means," she said calmly, "that the world has begun to notice you."
As if to punctuate her words, a stretcher team rushed past them toward the dungeon perimeter — hauling out the first casualties from the collapsed raid.
Behind them…
Familiar armor.
Familiar faces.
Jared.
Lena.
Marcus.
Alive.
Ethan's stomach dropped.
Jared saw him.
Saw Lyssara.
And went ghost-pale.
"That's impossible…" he whispered.
Lena grabbed his arm, panic flooding her features.
"He should be dead! We sealed the chamber!"
The nearest hunters turned sharply.
"Sealed?" the guildmaster repeated.
Every gaze snapped toward the trembling trio.
Ethan felt something cold and heavy settle into his chest.
Not fear.
Not even anger.
Clarity.
Lyssara leaned slightly closer.
"Are these the ones who betrayed you?" she asked softly.
He nodded once.
The temperature fell another few degrees.
Frost crept across Jared's boots.
He began to shake.
"W-wait— Ethan, listen, we thought— we had no choice—"
Lyssara took a single step forward.
The hunters instinctively retreated.
Even the guildmaster did not interfere.
Her eyes glowed faintly now, ancient and merciless.
"Speak carefully," she said.
Jared collapsed to his knees.
"I'm sorry! We panicked! The boss spike was too strong — you would've died anyway!"
Ethan studied him.
Three years of shared meals.
Jokes.
Near-death escapes.
All traded for convenience.
He expected rage.
Instead…
He felt nothing.
"Lyssara," he said quietly.
She paused.
"Yes, my king?"
King.
The word still felt unreal.
"…Don't kill them."
Her gaze searched his face.
"You show mercy to those who discarded you?"
Ethan met Jared's terrified eyes.
"Live with it," he said flatly.
"Remember exactly who you left behind."
Jared's shoulders shook.
Lyssara watched Ethan for a long moment.
Then, slowly, the killing frost receded.
"As you wish."
The guildmaster exhaled — he hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath.
The researcher whispered:
"…He stopped a sovereign…"
Another notification pulsed before Ethan's eyes.
Authority Recognized.Trait Unlocked: Sovereign's Bearing
Lesser beings are more likely to submit to your will.
Lyssara stepped back beside him, her hand once again resting lightly against his side.
Approval warmed her expression.
"Mercy wielded from strength," she said. "You learn quickly."
Across the perimeter, hunters continued staring.
Whispering.
Calculating.
Fear was already spreading.
Reputation was growing.
And deep inside Ethan's vision, the system flickered once more.
Global Attention Rising…