Winterfelt, the Northern land of eternal winter.

It was a land more familiar with death than life. Monsters slept beneath the snow, and a bitter cold that forbade even human entry continued through all four seasons.

And Walter von Wallenstein, the Great Mage who had ruled there alone for a long time, one day discovered a foreign presence in the middle of his domain.

Guest, standing all alone on the pure white snowfield. It was a fragile figure that could never survive in such a place.

He had long since lost interest in the world, yet he could not easily look away. And strangely, he did not want to leave the being before him in the snow like this. No, there was a more accurate expression.

He wanted to make that thing his own.

Walter moved his feet without hesitation.

Normally, it would have been something he finished with a single flick of his fingertips. But this time, he walked directly into the blizzard himself. The fierce snow wrapped around his black hair and long hem. However, the snow that touched Walter's surroundings melted away helplessly, and his dense mana pushed back the cold air, creating a quiet path.

Before long, a massive shadow blocked Guest's path.