“Wait a little longer. Maybe it’ll sprout soon,” Brian said.

Erik frowned and nodded. He could only keep waiting.

He waited — and more time passed, he could not say how much.

Cheng Weicai’s, Brian’s, and Ed’s seedlings gradually broke through the soil, spreading open their tender first leaves, while Erik’s seed gave no sign of life at all.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Erik said, growing anxious. “We all planted at the same time. There’s no reason theirs all sprouted and mine alone hasn’t…”

As he spoke, he slowed — as though something had occurred to him — and his face gradually went pale.

Brian frowned. “What is it? Have you figured out why?”

“I… I’m not sure if it’s related to what happened…” Erik’s expression was distant. “While you were all out finding supplies, I was here alone. It was so cold — my hands were numb — and I dropped the seed without noticing. By the time I realized, I didn’t know how much time had passed… maybe the seed got damaged by the cold and it’s affected the sprouting?”

“Can seeds get cold-damaged?” Ed raised an eyebrow. “I seem to remember reading something about low-temperature storage…”

“No ordinary seed can possibly sprout in just a few hours,” Brian reminded him. “We’re inside a game. Our seeds are not ordinary seeds in any conventional sense.”

He paused, then added, “And besides — even if the seed wasn’t damaged by the cold, Erik could have stepped on it while searching for it.”

Erik’s face went whiter still. He stared blankly at the soil in his lid as the memories of his frantic search flashed through his mind.

The seed had been so small. It had fallen to the ground and he hadn’t noticed immediately. Shaking from the cold, barely able to think, all he had been aware of was how unbearably cold he was. By the time he found it and managed to plant it — how long had that taken? Had he accidentally stepped on it? Had he properly checked it when he planted it? Had the seed been intact? Without any cracks?

…It was too late to wonder about any of that now.

The fact before him had to be faced: his seed — his seed alone — had not sprouted.

The air seemed to drop a few more degrees.

Even the flames in the fire basin wavered.

All eyes turned as one in the same direction. There, as though appearing from nowhere, a woman in a long white robe stood in utter silence, watching them.

A fox-fur collar framed her flawless jade-like face. The hem of her gown shimmered with shifting light as she stepped forward, and the piercing cold that clung to her — impossible to ignore — had wrapped itself around every one of them without their noticing.

Instinctively they held their breath, watching her advance, step by step—

The woman dropped her gaze. Her eyes flicked toward Erik.

Erik went rigid.

Then she raised her staff, and a surge of glacial air swept toward him! Erik’s eyes flew wide as, visibly, a layer of white frost crystallized across his entire body — then shards of ice — then mounting snow — until he had become a human-shaped ice sculpture!

One more swing of the staff and Erik’s frozen form toppled, sliding across the floor into the circular pool in the center of the hall — a splash of waves — and sinking to the bottom of the sea.

Silence settled over everything.

The remaining three said nothing. Only the terror on their faces gave voice to all they felt.

The woman said nothing either.

She looked at the tender seedlings in their hands, her expression quietly contemplative. She held that gaze for a long, long time before she finally spoke: “I will return in 6 hours.”

Then she turned and left.

Like snow — arriving without a sound, departing without a sound.

But the change in the surrounding temperature told those who had survived that she was gone.

Ed sank down as though all strength had drained from him, barely managing to cradle his seedling. “Another 6 hours… after 6 hours, if we can’t keep the seedling alive, will we end up like Erik — frozen to death…”

No longer was this about winning a sword. One misstep, and their lives might have only 6 hours left…

—