"Congratulations, Julia Asterfeld."
Nith'Zerra's voice dropped to an unusual low, not with anger, but with a chill that sent shivers down the spine.
"I… I don't even know whether I should be proud of you or furious."
Its serpentine eyes narrowed.
"You have just touched something no human has ever reached. And because of that…" Nith'Zerra tilted its head slightly, wearing a smile devoid of any emotion: "…I feel extremely uncomfortable."
Then, suddenly, as if it had exhausted all its rage and retreated into calm, it continued in a completely different tone: "Now you know. Everything I tried to hide, you've uncovered with your own mind."
"The decision… is yours. If you choose to flee, betray, cooperate, or declare war… I will follow you to the end."
Its gaze locked onto Julia, deep and unyielding, like an abyss waiting for someone to fall in.
Julia didn't respond immediately.
She simply sat there in silence, letting her thoughts drift. The things Nith'Zerra had revealed were only a small corner of a vast black veil—a corner enough to shake her entire perception of this world.
If these words were true… then everything humanity had believed for thousands of years was just a story told wrong.
The Demon God was not in the Demon Realm.
The Demon God was sealed right here on this continent.
And the most terrifying question: who had the power to seal a Demon God?
The thought made her wrist cold where the iron bracelet dug into her flesh, as if it were trembling on its own.
Julia closed her eyes briefly, regaining her breath.
Though her mind spiraled through hundreds of hypotheses, she was still clear enough to know when to probe deeper… and when to stop.
This was Nith'Zerra's matter, his past, wars between entities far beyond human imagination. If he did not wish to speak, forcing him would be useless, even dangerous.
More importantly, knowing Aethra's true identity… was already more than enough for today.
Julia opened her eyes.
Her gaze had shifted, sharper, colder, like the northern winds outside. As if all the words, warnings, doubts, and secrets were just a prelude, preparing her to step through another door.
A door with no way back.
"I need to take Venezia."
Finally, Julia spoke.
"Whether George agrees or not. And if he dares to stand in my way…"
She left the sentence hanging. No further words were needed. The air in the room seemed to drop a degree colder, compressed by the sheer weight of her resolve.
Directly declaring war on the Empire?
That, of course, was absurd—a fantasy of those who had never seen imperial blood spilled across the map.
So Julia did not choose that path.
She chose the one she had been following: slow, steady, with no turning back.
Not openly challenging the empire… but not submitting either.
The next plan was clear… the town of Venezia.
Without it, everything else would fall apart.
To advance, she must seize it.
To survive, she must hold it.
Thus, to change destiny… it must start there.
"Aethra, how much time do we have?" Julia asked. Though she now knew the serpent's true name, she was still used to calling it by the name she had accompanied for seventeen years.
Aethra's voice came out dry, curt, unbothered to hide its irritation: "I don't know! If we're lucky, a few months… up to a year. At worst, ten years, maybe even longer."
"It all depends on how serious Mol'Tharn's sludge is. If he drags his feet… if he fears me… we might just get a little more breathing room."
Aethra lifted its head, lowering its voice to a near curse: "Let's hope he's foolish enough to stay hidden for a long while."
Clearly, the term "sludge" was just Nith'Zerra's mocking nickname for Mol'Tharn—not a description, but derision. A Demon God would never bow to another Demon God. For Nith'Zerra, belittling an equal was an open declaration of dominance.
Yet, amid all that venom, there was still one truth Aethra deliberately did not remind Julia of.
Mol'Tharn was not the only Demon God it had sensed; there was a third one.
Fortunately, that entity remained weak, incapable of posing any serious threat, at least for now.
With that settled, Julia folded the schematic map carefully, slid it into her jacket pocket, and stood, stepping out of the top floor of the Red Furnace Tower.
Each floor she descended glowed red with firelight, reflecting off her silver-gray hair and the edges of her black leather coat, making her appear like a war deity forged from molten iron, ready to charge into battle.
Julia had not built the Red Furnace Tower to flaunt power or prove status. The true purpose of the Eternal Flame Forge at the tower's peak was to sustain the lives of Ravennica's citizens, keeping the city alive through the endless winter.
Indeed, many lives had been sacrificed during its construction. For that reason, the townspeople's gaze was a mixture of awe and caution. But Julia paid no heed to their fear. To her, the survival and warmth of the people were the highest value. Anyone who could not understand that could never truly grasp her responsibility.
Julia left the Red Furnace Tower; it was merely a workplace, like any forge for a blacksmith. Her true residence, shared with her sister Lilianne, was their family home—once destroyed by war but rebuilt. Yet, the scars of memory and past ruin were etched into every brick and window frame.
Given a choice, Julia would have preferred a normal life with her parents, in warmth and peace, rather than bearing the title of "Steel Queen," a name given by Ravennica's citizens out of both fear and respect.
Halfway down the tower, Julia paused, narrowing her eyes at two figures emerging from below.
One was Kael Thorne, leader of the city's security forces. Clad in black armor with glimmers of red, amber eyes, a long sword resting on his shoulder, he walked with the steadiness of a living warrior statue amid a sea of flames. His black hair was tied back neatly, with a few strands drifting with each step.
Beside Kael was Liora Veyrin, head of reconnaissance and communications. Liora wore soft dark-brown leather for swift movement, carrying a small backpack with observation lenses, rolled maps, and communication tools. Her deep blue eyes were sharp, quick, and seemed to memorize every minute detail. Her long brown hair tied at the nape, with a few loose strands dancing in the wind, gave her both a serious and ethereal presence, like a wind heralding impending events.
Julia studied them, sensing the urgency on Liora's face. She knew immediately: if the reconnaissance leader showed up with such a look, the news she carried was crucial and could change the fate of Ravennica.
"What's the matter?" Julia asked quickly as the three drew near.
Liora took a deep breath, her eyes darting quickly to Kael before she spoke. "Report, Your Majesty… monsters from the Lumer Highlands are approaching the outskirts of the city again."
"Their speed and direction remain unchanged from previous encounters."
She spoke just as she had in every prior report.
Julia nodded slightly, unsurprised. Monsters from Lumer had appeared many times before, yet never once had they posed a real threat to the city.
"Kael can order your subordinates to handle that. I just want to know what else is going on."
Liora bowed her head. This time, her tone was more serious. "Your Majesty… some of our agents hiding in Venezia have sent the latest news… they say… George is dead!"
Hearing this, Julia could not hide her momentary shock. The contingency plans that had just begun to form in her mind suddenly vanished.
"Has this news been confirmed?" Julia asked immediately.
"Your… George's death was witnessed by many. Therefore, this report is likely true!"
The corner of Julia's eye twitched slightly. Not out of grief—she had never felt any affection for George—but because of the sheer absurdity of the timing. His death was too sudden, too convenient… and far too unusual.
That man should have died by her hand, or at the very least been crushed in the wheels of schemes and strategies. Yet now, he had disappeared from the board like a pawn casually removed by someone else.
"How did George die?"
"The agents hiding in Venezia report… George was killed by a stranger. This person wore full-body armor from head to toe, their identity completely concealed beneath the steel."
Liora straightened immediately, reporting every detail without omission.
Julia narrowed her eyes slightly.
"What kind of armor?"
Liora inhaled deeply. "That is also why it took them time to confirm, Your Majesty. The surface of the armor is pitch black, reflecting light exactly like Ironfang steel… but the composition is entirely different. The armor plates are joined in a strange structure, both ancient and intricate… making it impossible to trace using any samples from Ravennica."
Julia fell silent. Ironfang was her own creation; no one on the continent could replicate it. Even if the color was similar, it did not mean the materials were the same.
"Continue."
Liora nodded lightly, then continued. "Immediately after George's death, the one in black armor also left Venezia. They did not kill anyone else… as if their target had never been the townsfolk."
Julia said nothing, but her gaze grew noticeably colder.
Liora swallowed before delivering the final, most important detail. "However, there is something unusual, Your Majesty. George's right-hand man… Mo Hamus… is still alive."
Julia tilted her head slightly. Mo Hamus, dangerously loyal to George, should have been the first to die if this had been a purge.
Liora continued, "According to our agents, Mo Hamus was only injured. This is extremely abnormal."
A moment of silence stretched between them.
Then Liora concluded: "Your Majesty… it seems someone has replaced George. Only… no one knows who it is yet."
"Really?" Julia asked, her voice lowering. "Why are you certain someone has taken George's place?"
Liora glanced at Kael, who remained silent to the side, his expression carrying a subtle incredulity—as if even she could hardly believe what she was about to say. "Your Majesty… all it takes is to get near Venezia's square to see for yourself."
Julia raised an eyebrow, not fully grasping Liora's implication.
Liora quickly continued, her voice taking on an eerie quality. "No infiltration is needed… not even surveillance. Just look through a window. Someone is sitting at George's desk, openly, blatantly… without hiding a single thing."
Julia frowned.
The report hit her like a slap in the face to any ruler with a rational mind.
"…A show of force?"
The thought flickered through her mind like smoldering fire.
The one who killed George, the one who sat in his place, the one who allowed everyone to see.
A statement clearer than any words: Venezia had changed masters.
Julia knew the next step in her plan very clearly—this time, there would be no detours.
Previously, she would have observed her opponent from afar, gradually analyzing habits, personality, and weaknesses, just as she had done with George for years. But now, there was no time to leisurely lay out her schemes. Aethra had said Mol'Tharn was awakening, the invisible threat creeping closer with each passing day.
Julia quietly shut down all scattered thoughts.
To know who that person was, to determine their intentions… there was only one way: a direct meeting.
A dangerous reconnaissance, yet more necessary than anything else at the moment.
Only by seeing the one who replaced George with her own eyes, hearing their words, observing their actions, and sensing their true aura… could Julia formulate her strategy: whether to negotiate, intimidate, or eliminate.
"Kael, prepare the carriage to escort me to Venezia. I want to meet the new ruler of the town." Julia's voice was sharp as steel, betraying not a hint of hesitation.
"I will return home to see Lilianne. You will pick me up there."
"Understood!"
Kael Thorne immediately placed a hand over his chest, his tall figure bowing slightly in the manner of a guardian. Though cold and unyielding as forged iron, he had never kept Julia waiting for a command twice. The moment she spoke, Kael moved as swiftly and decisively as a sword drawn from its scabbard.
The sound of his footsteps echoed quickly as he descended the stairs, disappearing amid the red-hot heat and the whistling wind through the steel gaps.
For outsiders, the journey from Venezia to Ravennica was always considered a nightmare. Even traveling nonstop, it would take over a day to cross the entire Lumer Highlands. But even that was barely feasible. Horses needed rest, riders needed warmth, and the cold wind only waited for someone to exhaust themselves before crushing them with its minus-40°C breath.
The terrain of Lumer was not simply difficult—it was a deadly wasteland. Roads vanished beneath thick snow, icy surfaces lurked like hidden traps, and the northern wind was strong enough to flip an entire carriage. Those who tried to push forward recklessly quickly ended up buried in snow. Even with well-trained horses, light carriages, and skilled drivers, the journey could not be shortened to less than a day and a half.
But that was the world outside.
Ravennica was different.
Here, there was the Frostbite Carriage—the Băng Xa Thiết Tuyền—the only vehicle permitted to traverse the Lumer Highlands, and a source of pride for the northern inhabitants.
The body of the carriage was not made of wood like ordinary carriages. It was fully clad in Lumer Froststeel, a metal forged only within Ironfang, where black ore was mixed with eternal ice dust. This steel had a peculiar property: the colder it became, the harder it got. It was the only material that did not become brittle below 0°C.
First-time onlookers often did not recognize the Frostbite Carriage as a carriage. It resembled a polished metal coffin, armored in curved plates that let wind slide off without flipping it. The wheels were wide and anti-slip, the axles reinforced to prevent cracking over snow and ice.
Beneath the floor, the finest Ravennican smiths engraved the Ignis-3 Heating Runes, remnants of knowledge from the Age of the Demon King. They did not produce flames, as fire could weaken metal in the cold winds, but radiated dry heat evenly throughout the cabin, keeping occupants from freezing even as the wind outside threatened to freeze blood in their veins.
But what truly set the Frostbite Carriage apart… was the creature that pulled it.
No ordinary horse could survive in Lumer; they would panic before succumbing to frostbite.
Ravennica used Frostmane horses, their manes white as ice, lungs 40% larger than southern horses, bred in the cold and accustomed to the scent of snow beasts. They did not flinch at the howl of ice wolves nor hesitate on thin ice, for they could sense vibrations beneath the snow.
Each Frostmane was outfitted with snow-leather armor, light iron boots to prevent slipping, and wind masks to shield their eyes from blizzards.
Thanks to all of this, the Frostbite Carriage was the only vehicle on the continent capable of reducing the journey from Ravennica to Venezia to just half a day.
In a frozen world, Ravennica always found a way to survive.