CHAPTER 194: TUMULT OF THE TWO WEEKS: PART 6 - ICICLES AND CLOUDS

In a flash, almost chased, Asahi took Primrose’s hand. Tension and fear prickled between them as they ran from the city to villages on snowy cliffs. As they ran, people stared—his white hair shining like the falling snow. Gears lined the walls, clicking and spinning as barriers moved, making them dodge and weave around them, hearts pounding at every turn.

Without pausing, Primrose yanked Asahi’s hood up, smothering the glint of his hair. Her hands shook as she hustled him through twisting alleys, clutching his arm, so near the shifting walls that their elbows grazed the gritty stone. Her tension made Asahi tighten his grip in return, worry etched on his face.

"Safe. Really? A blizzard now? Just our luck," Primrose muttered as snow thickened, exasperation and worry coloring her voice. She shot a glance at Asahi, biting her lip as she tried to mask her growing frustration.

Asahi blinked in bewilderment, his breath hitching as anxiety twisted in his chest. Overhead, a monstrous cloud of icicles surged through the town, snowflakes whipping in icy gusts that drove people to seek shelter. He shivered, unsettled by the raw chaos above.

Primrose said, "They say whenever the Queen of Astait is upset, snowstorms follow. I didn’t expect her out now... Her power is immense, capable of twisting nature itself. She can summon furious blizzards and shape the icy winds to her will, making her wrath feared by all in these lands."

Breaking free at the city’s edge, shrouded in swirling mist, Primrose seized Asahi’s hand and tugged him toward the waiting carriage. With every hurried step, the city’s noise melted away, giving rise to the taut silence of their flight.

"If we can’t save Dad or Gramps, we save ourselves," Primrose said, fastening the reins on the horses with trembling hands. The words caught in her throat, her jaw set in anxious determination. "They’re safe—just captured." Fear and hope warred in her eyes.

Asahi wanted to snap, his frustration simmering, but Primrose was right. If her family were captured, a jailbreak could be planned. He set the thought aside, but guilt and fear gnawed at him. Escape came first. Three suited men approached, asking...

"Stop at once, fiends! Capture the White-haired boy at all costs."

With a silent signal, Asahi and Primrose darted past the shifting barriers. Their wagon shot through the exit, wheels skimming ice as they raced toward Blacksmith Haven.

After their punishing escape across wild ground, the journey finally ended at the battered gates of Blacksmith Haven.

The road battered them with icy winds and exhaustion that seeped into their bones. Time crawled by until their wagon finally jolted into a blacksmith’s yard, sending soil canisters tumbling in its wake. Blacksmiths burst out, voices raised in alarm...

"What were you’re damn doing?"

"Get your butt out and answer!"

Asahi and Primrose kept their heads low, hugging the fence line as they slipped past wary clusters of townsfolk, the silence thick with suspicion.

"Hello? Is anyone listening?"

After moments of rage and heartbreak, Primrose, unable to hide her emotions, finally spoke. Her face was streaked with tears, her jaw clenched as she struggled to compose herself.

"Sorry for crashing into your walls," Primrose said. Asahi stepped in, but Primrose added, "We’re running from the Queen of Astait."

"The Queen of Astait?" the blacksmith echoed, slamming his hammer. "Samantha? Good enough reason as any."

The blacksmith’s scowl melted into a wide, inviting grin. Laughter and warmth swept through the town like a sudden thaw. As they meandered along winding lanes, their host paraded them from one inquisitive local to the next. The air brimmed with the sharp tang of spirits, curling from every steamy nook.

"See, here in Blacksmith Haven, we hate the Queen," the blacksmith went on. "She’s just selfish and doesn’t care about her people." After a pause, the man looked back and mumbled. "Listen, you, white-haired kid! You remind me of a woman I met fifty years ago."

Asahi, confused, scratched his head and asked,

"What?"

"Yeah," the blacksmith said, eyeing Asahi’s hair. "You look like the Knight of Supremacy. The Ruler of Origin."

Those titles pressed down on them, unfamiliar and immense, casting a hush over the room.

"The Knight of Supremacy?"

Yes, the blacksmith replied, glancing up at the mountain. She was beautiful, with white hair, wearing strange clothes. Built everything here. Greatest fighter of her time, the War of the Wish. Every anvil, all of it, was her strength and cleverness. The conflict reshaped these lands, leaving behind a legacy of resilience and innovation. There’s this huge oven under town. Let’s just say we honor her.

Someone in the background added, "She’s the architect of this century—built that huge contraption under Astait alone."

Primrose fell silent, worry flickering in her eyes as she tried to imagine the woman. Asahi, however, felt a pang of doubt—he knew the blacksmith wasn’t speaking about Aletha. Confusion and apprehension mingled in his thoughts.

Instead, he meant a forgotten member of the Adtraic family—one Asahi had forgotten ever since they returned to Gincad. Asahi was a direct descendant, tying him to the powerful lineage that once held great influence in the realm. This connection was a part of his heritage, a link to the legacy and legends of the past.

"Mother?"

Suddenly, the blacksmith reeled back.

"Hold on, the Knight of Supremacy is YOUR mother?!"

That revelation made everyone turn; their suspicion melted into relief, and even a few grins appeared.

"Well, I’ll be damned. We’ll get your carriage up, no time. Relax."

As he and Primrose drifted through the plaza of anvils, a single thought gripped him, icy and unyielding.

"Where is Kika? Or even, Yawman?"

. . .

As night deepened, the hours melted into one another. Asahi was guided through every hidden corner of the town, from the oven’s blazing heights to the forge’s molten heart, where gears spun and steel swords sent sparks leaping into the shadows.

"It should take three days, max." One of the repairers said as they fixed one of the wooden wheels.

"Three days?!" Primrose yelped.

"That or it won’t be fixed," the repairer hollered, slamming the hammer down. Without another word, the two gathered at the center of the plaza. The sun faded as hours passed, casting long shadows while Asahi felt the weight of waiting.

"Where do we sleep?" Primrose said, looking at the inns.

Asahi reached for his Soul Storage, and after shuffling through some of the coins, he clutched a handful and pulled it out from his hip.

"Payment for two rooms," he said. "Choose one now."

Primrose pouted. She felt a wave of frustration building inside her, mixed with a tinge of helplessness. It seemed she had something to share, perhaps a worry or fear, but she knew voicing it wouldn’t change their circumstances. Her mind raced with thoughts of her father and grandfather, wishing there was another solution, yet reluctant to burden Asahi with her doubts. Suddenly, yet another flurry of snow blew through.

"Asahi, get inside!"

Slamming the door, the two entered the desk. A girl with dark hair and purple glasses was writing something on paper. Asahi, with his hood up, asked her.

"We want two rooms." He asked as he shoved the coins on the desk. "One for me and another for her."

"Go on," she replied. "Good thing you beat the storm. Have a good night, you two."

"No problem," Asahi said, giving a smile. "You too."

Climbing the stairs, they found themselves surrounded by lavish wallpaper and gleaming floors, a room apart from the inn’s humble exterior. The interior seemed fit for elven nobility. As they passed, Primrose muttered.

"Why can’t I..."

Asahi leered back.

"Did you say something?"

Primrose shook the thought away, pushing down her vulnerability as she chose the rightmost room. Slowly, she opened the door and slammed it shut, the sound echoing her conflicted emotions. Asahi shook his head and sighed, whispering under his breath, unsure if he should reach out or leave her alone.

"What is her problem?"

After settling in his own room, hearing Primrose scream into a pillow, he slowly stripped the jacket off and slept in his original attire, resting on the soft mattress.

"For once, peace at last," Asahi muttered as he slowly fell asleep.

Weariness finally overtook him, and sleep pulled him under.

Soon, dreams unfurled in the quiet depths of sleep.

A vision formed, drawing Asahi into the past.

. . .

A rock from beyond the firmament crashed into the world, slamming directly at Astait.

An explosion swallowed and devoured a crater, with a stone cocoon slamming open from the underground. Swiftly, a tall woman sporting white hair covered her body, stepping back and forth, rising from the snowy ocean. She fell onto her knees, rubbing her head, saying...

"I’m... awake?" She said as the snow of Astait consumed the glacial cliffs. Quickly, she noticed she was stripped bare. With no other way, she covered her body with her hair and arose from the shores. "How long... has it been?"

With nothing to hide her, she hurriedly raced to conjure her clothing from thin air. Unfortunately, it seemed as if all her magic was taken away from her. "Where am I? Is this my world?" These words stirred something in Asahi’s sleep, an inexplicable familiarity with her visage. Her face brought forth a rush of fragmented memories, like flashes of light cutting through darkness. Though the memories remained elusive, Asahi recognized a deep connection to her, as if she held the key to understanding his own past and identity.

With no other choice, she stepped into a clothing shop in Sleepy Serpent Shores, snatching a cloak with the money she luckily found on the floor.

"What... is going on?" She said, scratching her head as she covered her body up. "Where is Acheros, Asahi, Aletha, or... even Aiyana? Why have I awakened? Have I died?"

As she continued to wander the place, she began noticing castles entombed in the mountains. Her cold hands skimmed the walls. Asahi was about to break out. He could relate to the woman. Ever since he had awakened underwater, near the shores of Pladtioa, with his power missing, he had to navigate without his power. It seemed that this woman was at the same instance... However...

"Where are all my powers?"

With nothing else to do, the white-haired woman scavenged the Graveyard of Castles and found a piece of armor surrounded by blue luminance.

"I suppose this will fit." After applying it on, suddenly a rush of power washed over her like a tide. Instantly, her hair glowed white, illuminating and melting the ice in one swoop. She conjured back her clothes and covered her face with a mask, approaching an empty field of ice and snow.

By command of The Adtraic Family, she said, holding onto the luminance of the white string, piecing it together, blood dripping on her toes. "I hereby craft five castles."

Suddenly, with the blue luminance combined, she was able to conjure up buildings out of thin air. Though she had regained her powers, the woman could not use them to their fullest extent.

Her magic’s limited use drained her quickly, as the icy realm’s harsh conditions sapped her strength each time she harnessed her energy. This magical burnout, caused by the severe climate and the lingering effects of her long slumber, led her to burn out quickly and fall apart.

"I... I can barely use just a fraction of my power." She said, falling to her knees. "Children, husband, where did you go?"

Yet only silence and the snowy flurries had answered her.

. . .

Then the moment flickered in a frenzy. A world smoldering with lava and ash. The sky was tainted with red with the chaos of the "Angels" that had invaded this world--The War of The Wish.

A white-haired woman clad in black steel armor clutched onto a luminescent spear and threw it. Ground-shaking power emerged, striking and enveloping the place with white luminance. Suddenly,

(SLAM)

She slammed her fist at the worrying refugee houses and conjured up an invisible barrier, deflecting all projectiles.

"Keep Blacksmith Haven safe." She whispered to the men, boys, and girls scurrying around for their lives. "May our souls find rest in this wrecked visage."

. . .

The last and final memory, one Asahi could barely recall, was a glowing, pulsating, purple orb echoing through the expanse. Black obsidian encircled, purple gems everywhere, and the white-haired woman gathered all her energy.

But then an unknown, grating, thin and thick voice asked her a cluster of questions.

"Why does a destroyer seek redemption?" It said voice echoing like the universe.

"What is your universe’s goal?"

"Why cower beneath Creation?

"Why become nothing?"

"Why wish on something that can barely happen?"

"Why meld Underworld and Heaven together?

The Four Creator’s Wrath is imminent. The Angels have rented this land asunder. And yet you choose the path of destruction?

Before anything could be done, the woman threw her hands and saw her white hair staining—

"Is this what your Promise entails?"

After that last line, it was cut off, and Asahi’s vision flashed into a tunnel. The last thing he heard, before seeing the shallow water space form with Telos and Aletha back, was...

"Why sacrifice your soul for those weak family members of yours?"