Chapter 116: The Frost's Mourning
The night in the Northern Frost-Spire was not merely a passage of time; it was a test of survival. Outside, the blizzard howled with a predatory hunger, but inside the makeshift ice-igloo, the world was reduced to the flickering orange glow of a small campfire. The walls of packed snow muffled the screams of the wind, yet they couldn't drown out the heavy silence of loss.
Mina Kimo sat closest to the fire, the red scarf Ren had given her pulled tight around her neck. Her face, usually radiating a sense of composed nobility, was now etched with exhaustion and a cold, hard bitterness. Across from her sat the remnants of Team A.
The cost of their first encounter with the Titans had been devastating. Out of the initial group, four Vaners were gone. Their bodies lay beneath the permafrost outside, marked by crude graves that the snow was already working to erase. Among the survivors, the atmosphere was grim. Marko, a seasoned warrior who had always been the loudest in the group, now sat staring blankly at the flames, his left sleeve pinned up where his hand used to be. The wound was cauterized and bandaged, but the phantom pain made his shoulders twitch rhythmically.
Ren sat slightly apart from the circle, leaning against the curved ice wall. His tactical suit was torn in several places, and a dark bruise had formed along his ribs where a Titan's swinging arm had nearly crushed him. He was cleaning the black, viscous blood of a giant off his blade with a piece of cloth, his movements slow and deliberate.
"Those things..." Mina started, her voice cracking before she regained its sharp, icy edge. "Fighting them head-on was a mistake. They aren't just big; their skin density is higher than the reports suggested. We barely made it out of that valley."
She looked at her remaining team members, her eyes lacking their usual warmth. "From now on, we don't engage unless it's an ambush. We have three more sectors to clear before we reach the main hive. We have to be smarter. We have to be faster. Or we'll all end up like the ones outside."
Ren looked up from his sword, his sapphire eye catching the firelight. "Any word from Adam's team? Did they make it to their waypoint?"
Mina's head snapped toward him, her expression darkening. "No. And frankly, Ren, we shouldn't care. Their mission is theirs, and ours is ours. If we waste energy worrying about Team B, we'll lose focus on our own survival. Focus on the mission, Lite Leader. That is an order."
Ren narrowed his eyes, observing her. In his mind, he noted the change. The loss of four men had triggered something in Mina. She wasn't just being a Captain anymore; she was becoming distant, almost rude. Was it the guilt of the deaths? Or was she hardening her heart so she wouldn't have to feel the next loss?
"Right," Ren replied dryly. "The mission. Always the mission."
Mina stood up, the fire casting long, dancing shadows behind her. "We need to set a watch. We can't afford to be caught off guard. We'll split the night into two shifts. Three people will stay awake for the first four hours while two sleep. Then we swap—two stay awake, and three sleep. Who's taking the first watch?"
"I am," Ren said immediately, not missing a beat.
"I'll do it too," Marko muttered, his voice gravelly. He tried to stand, but his balance was off due to the missing limb, and he swayed dangerously.
Mina looked at Marko with a cold, analytical gaze. "You're injured, Marko. Your body is in shock. You need rest if you want to be useful tomorrow. Sit down. The others will take the shift."
"I can still hold a sword with my right hand, Captain!" Marko protested, his face flushing.
Ren didn't look up from his work. "I already said I'm not sleeping. Why even ask if you're going to pick and choose?"
Mina turned her glare toward Ren, her jaw tightening. "Because I am the Captain, and I decide who is fit for duty. A soldier who doesn't follow orders is a liability. Do you want to be disciplined in front of the team, Ren? Or are you going to follow the protocol?"
Ren let out a short, cynical laugh. "Disciplined? In an igloo in the middle of a frozen wasteland? Go ahead, Mina. Show me what a 'saza' looks like out here."
The other three surviving Vaners looked between the two of them, the tension in the small space becoming almost as suffocating as the cold outside. One of them let out a nervous, stifled laugh at Ren's audacity.
Mina's eyes flashed with genuine anger. She stepped toward Ren, her presence flaring with Vane energy. "Be silent! All of you!"
The laughter stopped instantly. The Vaners lowered their heads, staring at their boots. "Forgive us, Captain," they whispered in unison.
Mina took a deep breath, composed herself, and pointed at two of the uninjured Vaners. "You two and I will take the first watch. Ren and Marko, sleep. That is my final word."
Ren sighed, sheathing his blade. He didn't want to push her further—not because he was afraid, but because he could see the cracks in her armor. She was holding onto her authority like a lifeline. He slid down against the ice, closing his eyes, though his mind remained as sharp and alert as a coiled viper.
The Shadow in the Snow: Team B
Miles away, in a different sector of the Frost-Spire, another igloo stood nestled in the hollow of a frozen canyon. Inside, Adam Lee and the remnants of Team B were resting. Unlike Team A, there was no bickering here. Adam's leadership was absolute, built on a foundation of silent, grim respect.
His men were sprawled out on their sleeping mats, their breathing heavy and synchronized. Adam himself sat in a meditative trance, his sword resting across his lap. They had buried their dead earlier, and the exhaustion had finally claimed them.
But the mountain was never truly asleep.
Outside, the snow shifted. A rhythmic thud, so low it was almost felt rather than heard, began to vibrate through the ice.
A Titan was approaching.
This one was different from the others they had encountered. It was larger, its skin covered in patches of thick, white fur that acted as natural camouflage against the blizzard. Its eyes weren't the mindless, wandering orbs of the common giants; they were fixed, focused, and glowing with a faint, predatory yellow light.
It moved with a terrifying silence for a creature of its size, its massive feet sinking into the snow without a sound. It stopped ten yards from the igloo, its head tilting to the side as it caught the scent of human warmth leaking through the vent hole in the snow ceiling.
The Titan lowered its massive, clawed hand toward the ice structure, its breath coming out in thick, steaming plumes that hissed against the frozen ground.
Inside, Adam's eyes snapped open. He didn't move a muscle, but his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. He felt the vibration. He smelled the musk of the beast.
The predator had found its prey, and the night was about to turn from a cold rest into a bloodbath.