Time no longer moved in the cell.
It didn't crawl.
It didn't drip forward.
It simply… stopped.
There was no window.
No morning.
No evening.
Only the damp smell of stone, and the faint drip of water---slow, hollow, echoing---like the heartbeat of something buried beneath the prison.
Sometimes I wondered if the cell was breathing.
The cold walls pressed too close, too still, too deliberate… as if they were listening.
I lost track of hours.
Or days.
Or weeks.
At some point, I even forgot what it felt like to count time.
The only anchor to reality was the food.
If it could even be called that.
A guard slid a chunk of spoiled bread---never more than a quarter piece---through the gap beneath the door.
Sometimes after what felt like a long silence.
Sometimes moments after the previous.
There was no pattern.
Just randomness.
Like a god with a cruel sense of humor.
I ate anyway.
Hunger devours pride long before the body dies.
Then, finally---footsteps.
Cold metal keys scraping.
A lock grinding.
The cell door screeched open, light flooding the darkness like a blade forced between ribs.
Two soldiers stepped inside.
No greetings.
No explanations.
Just iron.
They snapped shackles around my wrists—tight enough to pinch nerves—and connected them with a short chain that barely allowed movement. They chained my ankles, too.
I tried stepping forward and nearly collapsed.
The weight of the restraints stole breath from my lungs, crushing, suffocating.
My wrists throbbed.
My ankles burned.
The cold metal felt like teeth biting through skin.
They dragged me out.
The winter air stabbed my lungs, sharp and sudden.
Snow blinded me.
For a moment, I almost believed I was still dreaming.
Or hallucinating again.
Then I saw the others.
And everything inside me froze.
Twelve prisoners.
Twelve strangers.
But not strangers.
A Murim martial artist with torn robes and ragged breathing.
A cultivator whose topknot barely held together.
A medieval knight with cracked armor and dead eyes.
A girl in lightweight fantasy-leather gear.
A scholar in ancient robes, shivering quietly.
A man in modern clothing, bruised but alert.
Others dressed in styles impossible for a single world.
People who shouldn't exist in the same place.
People I had only ever seen as… characters.
In files.
In designs.
In discarded drafts from the game company.
My blood turned to ice.
Either this was the most elaborate hallucination yet---
or something far worse.
We were shoved into a wooden carriage.
The soldiers bound additional chains from wrist to wrist, linking all twelve of us in a tangled line.
Every small movement tugged someone else's arm.
Inside the carriage, the smell of damp wood and cold metal mixed with fear.
We sat shoulder-to-shoulder, ankles tied, wrists pinned together by chains that clinked like faint echoes of despair.
The door slammed shut.
"Keep them chained," a soldier said outside.
"Prisoners trying to escape are more annoying than their screams."
The carriage lurched forward.
We said nothing at first.
Only the wheels grinding through snow filled the silence.
Finally, the cultivator leaned closer, voice trembling.
"Where… where are they taking us?"
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know which question terrified me more---
Where we were going?
Or what these people even were?
Before anyone could speak further---
"HEY!"
A guard slammed his fist against the wooden wall.
"Shut your mouths, you useless trash!"
We went silent again.
Minutes blurred.
Hours disintegrated.
Then---voices from outside.
"Captain!" a soldier shouted. "Isn't this the pathway to Freezing Hell? These prisoners were supposed to be executed."
The captain barked a laugh.
"They were. But the Poison Palm Clan Leader wanted entertainment. So we'll throw them into Freezing Hell instead."
Another soldier hesitated.
"But… if they survive---?"
"Survive? Don't joke. Prisoners without even a name? Luck doesn't exist for their kind."
Laughter echoed in the cold mountain air.
We did not laugh.
We didn't breathe.
Because "Freezing Hell" wasn't a metaphor.
Everyone here---Murim, cultivator, knight, girl, modern man, scholar---recognized the name.
And every face drained of color.
The journey stretched into days.
Snow thickened.
Wind howled.
The temperature dropped until even exhaling hurt.
We slept sitting, backs pressed against frozen wood.
The chains rubbed our wrists raw.
The spoiled bread was barely edible—we had to raise our shackled hands together to eat.
Every bump on the road dug metal deeper into our skin.
By the third day, the world outside the carriage had become a wasteland of snow and stone.
No signs of life.
No warmth.
Only howling wind and the distant echo of beasts we couldn't see.
My senses stayed unnaturally sharp.
I heard everything---
The crack in the wheel spokes.
The uneven breathing of the soldiers.
The distant growl of something massive.
The steady thumping of twelve terrified hearts.
Years of hallucinations had done this.
Years of nightmares had sharpened my instincts into something unnatural---
something closer to a sixth sense.
It scared me.
But it kept me alive.
Halfway up the mountain ridge, the road narrowed.
Too steep.
Too icy.
The carriage creaked dangerously.
"Slow down!" a soldier shouted.
"Careful---!"
CRRRRRAAAAACK.
The left wheel split.
The entire carriage lurched to the side.
"BRACE YOURSE---!"
We flipped.
The world became a cyclone of white and wood and screams.
Prisoners crashed into each other.
Chains yanked limbs sideways.
Bodies collided with the walls.
The carriage shattered against rocks as we tumbled down the slope.
---THUD
---THUD
---THUD
Snow blasted into our faces.
The world stopped only when we hit something massive.
A cave.
A deep, yawning cavern where the cold felt alive.
Then---
A sound.
Wet.
Heavy.
Breathing.
A tremor traveled through the snow.
Something moved inside the darkness.
Something far too big.
A pale-blue light emerged--glowing, unblinking, unhuman.
Then the creature stepped out.
And every thought left my mind.
A monster.
A bear-like titan of frozen flesh.
Ice clung to its fur like armor.
Its claws glistened like obsidian blades.
When it inhaled, mist curled in spirals.
When it exhaled, the air froze.
A soldier reached for his sword---
The beast moved.
SWIPE.
A blur of claws.
A spray of blood steaming in the cold air.
Two bodies fell in half.
Screams erupted.
"SPREAD OUT!" Jin Tae-woon, the Murim warrior, shouted.
We tried--but the chains yanked us back together.
The metal jerked our arms.
The restraints tripped our legs.
We stumbled into a crooked half-circle, a perfect shape for dying together.
The beast roared.
A sonic wave of cold.
Frost tore across the ground toward us.
The cultivator tried to dodge, but his ankle shackle snapped him back, making him fall.
The medieval knight grabbed him just in time.
"We can't move like this!" Mira—the fantasy girl
--shouted.
"The chains--!"
The monster lunged again.
Claws slashed the snow inches from my face.
My breathing quickened.
The world narrowed.
Sound sharpened to needles.
Years of nightmares.
Years of visions.
Years of shadows watching me.
All of it converged into one moment.
"MR. NAMELESS!" Mira screamed.
"THINK OF SOMETHING!"
"I--
I don't know how to fight--!"
"JUST FOCUS! I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT!"
Her voice split the panic.
Everything stilled.
My mind, usually a trembling mess, turned razor-sharp.
I stopped shaking.
I saw--
The monster's attack rhythm.
The terrain.
The snow's slope.
The angle of the broken carriage.
The frozen pillars jutting from the ground.
The tension in every chain link.
No magic.
No divine system.
Just… instinct.
Trauma.
Pure predator-like perception.
"We can't kill the monster yet," I shouted.
"We break the chains first!"
"How?!" Tae-woon yelled.
"USE THE ROCK PILLARS! Wrap the chains around them!"
We moved--not gracefully, but desperately.
Bound by chains.
Driven by fear.
The knight and Tae-woon looped the chain around a jagged stone.
The beast charged.
BOOOOM---
The chain pulled taut.
The metal screamed.
"AGAIN!"
We repositioned.
The beast struck again.
CRACK---CRACK---
The links strained.
Frozen metal shrieked under the pressure.
"EVERYONE---PULL!"
We heaved.
Muscles burning.
Wrists bleeding.
Snow freezing under our knees.
SNAP.
The chain holding all twelve of us fractured.
We stumbled away from each other, gasping in relief.
The monster froze, confused.
"TRIP IT!" I roared.
The Murim warrior swept its leg.
The cultivator grabbed its ankle.
The knight slashed the back of its knee.
Mira threw a stone straight into its glowing eye.
"NOW! PUSH!"
We rammed it together.
The titan toppled.
Its throat exposed.
I didn't think.
I simply moved.
I grabbed a fallen soldier's shattered sword---
ran forward---
and drove the broken blade into the monster's throat.
Blood gushed.
Hot.
Metallic.
Steam rising.
The creature convulsed.
Then---
Stillness.
Silence.
Only the sound of snow falling quietly around us.
Then---
ting
A small, crystalline chime echoed.
A glowing screen materialized before me— text shifting like living light.
And around me, one by one, the others gasped as their own screens appeared.
A system.
Not a game's mock-up.
Not UI design.
Not imagination.
Something real.
Alive.
But no one could see anyone else's screen.
Just their own.
We stared at each other— twelve strangers from twelve worlds, chained, bleeding, cold, yet still breathing---
And something changed.
This was no longer the end.
It was the beginning.
Or so I wanted to think.
But this world had no such thing as beginnings.
Only endings waiting to happen.
Snow swirled gently over the battlefield.
The monster's body steamed in the freezing air, its massive frame slowly stiffening as ice crawled across its fur. Blood pooled beneath it—deep crimson spreading across white, staining the mountain like a wound.
None of us spoke.
None of us even moved.
We just… stared at the glowing screens that had appeared in front of us, as if waiting for someone, anyone, to explain what we were seeing.
It felt like witnessing the birth of something unholy.
The cultivator—Shen Yuan—was the first to speak.
His voice was hoarse, trembling slightly.
"…This… this looks like a cultivation jade slip. But it's floating."
The medieval knight—Ser Rowan Hale—grunted.
"Mine… speaks of strength and vigor. Like a warrior ledger."
The scholar—Qiu Wenji—squinted through cracked, frost-covered glasses.
"Mine lists attributes and… aspects? No two characters are the same."
Mira—the fantasy girl—rubbed her wrist where the broken chain still clung.
"I've seen something like this in games… but this isn't a game."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
The modern man, Rohan Malhotra, stared at his screen with wide, frightened eyes.
"This looks like a… status window. Like in a system novel. But—"
His voice dropped.
"But it feels real."
All of us instinctively flinched when he said that.
Because we felt it too.
The screens pulsed faintly with our heartbeats.
As if synced to our existence.
As if watching us.
My own screen was i don't even know how to describe it..
──────────────────
[NAME:(■ ■ ■ ■ ■)]
[ORIGIN: Unknown]
[ASPECT: UNKNOWN]
[ATTRIBUTE ASSESSMENT: Error]
[SOUL STABILITY: Unstable]
[ ABILITIES]
(ACTIVE: NONE)
(PASSIVE: SHADOW SENCES)
[STATES]
(STRAIGHT: 11) (AGILITY:15)
(ENDURANCE:7) (INTELLIGENTS:∅)
──────────────────
The letters flickered violently, like the system itself was confused.
I blinked.
The system blinked back.
Then glitched.
Then stabilized.
Then disappeared, fading like mist.
I exhaled shakily, realizing I'd been holding my breath.
Shen Yuan stepped closer to me.
"…What did yours say, Nameless?"
I lifted my gaze.
"Don't call me that."
"Then what is your name?" Mira asked softly.
For a moment, I froze.
My name.
My real name.
The one I should have known.
The one the old man couldn't say.
The one I couldn't say.
I searched my mind, digging through fog and walls and darkness—
Nothing.
Just silence.
Just emptiness.
"I…"
My voice cracked.
"…I don't remember."
They stared.
Not with judgment.
With something worse.
Pity.
I hated it.
So I forced myself to speak again.
"…Raven."
Mira's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Is that your real name?"
"It's the only one I have."
A half-lie.
But half-lies were still lies.
Still, she nodded.
Not believing me.
But understanding I didn't want to talk.
That was enough.
We gathered near the monster's corpse for warmth—even its cooling body was better than the wind's claws ripping through us.
Shen Yuan spoke first.
"I… I should introduce myself formally. My name is Shen Yuan. I was a cultivator of the Verdant Sol Sect."
He looked around, swallowing.
"At least… I think I was. The memories are fuzzy."
Ser Rowan Hale pushed himself up from the snow.
"I am Ser Rowan Hale. Knight of the First Steel Legion."
He paused.
"…Or was."
Mira raised a hand slightly.
"Mira Ashwell. Ranger of the Frostwood Order."
Qiu Wenji bowed.
"Qiu Wenji, scholar of the Azure Court."
Rohan Malhotra rubbed his temples.
"I'm Rohan… I was a software engineer. In Mumbai."
He looked around.
"…I shouldn't even be here."
Jin Tae-woon, the Murim warrior, cracked his knuckles.
"Jin Tae-woon. Southern Tiger Sect. You can call me Tae."
Esmerey Crest—the female knight—gave a brief nod.
"Esmerey. Squire to the Crown Guard."
One by one, they introduced themselves.
Eight survivors.
And four…
We turned toward the fallen bodies.
The ones who didn't survive the fall.
Or the attack.
Or the cold.
Mira lowered her head.
"We should… say something."
Rowan shook his head.
"Save your breath. The mountain will bury them."
Tae-woon stared at the snow.
"…Death is common. But dying chained… like animals…"
Silence grew thick.
Not grieving silence.
Guilty silence.
Then Rohan whispered:
"Why us?"
No one answered.
Because there was no answer.
Only the wind.
We knew we couldn't stay near the cave.
The monster's body would attract scavengers.
Warmer beasts.
Smaller ones.
Colder ones.
We needed shelter.
Food.
Warmth.
And answers.
"Up the mountain," Shen Yuan said earlier.
"There is a temple dedicated to the Frost God—one of thunder and winter."
Qiu Wenji nodded.
"One of the soldiers mentioned Freezing Hell. The temple is said to be at the peak."
"It might have shelter," Mira added.
"And relics. Maybe food. Or fire."
Rowan gazed up the endless white slope.
"The path will kill us."
Tae spat blood onto the snow.
"Staying here will kill us now. Pick your poison."
No one argued.
We began climbing.
The wind cut us open.
Every step felt like lifting a mountain with our ankles still partly chained.
Our hands shook uncontrollably.
Our breath crystallized instantly.
The snowstorm wasn't loud—it was whispering.
Soft.
Muffled.
Like someone breathing against our ears.
Shen Yuan muttered,
"The stories weren't exaggerating…"
"What stories?" I asked.
"The Freezing Hell is a divine punishment ground. A place where souls break before bodies."
Rohan swallowed hard.
"So… like a trial?"
"No," Wenji whispered.
"A graveyard."
We trudged on.
The path narrowed, forcing us to move single-file.
Tae took the lead, Rowan behind him, Mira and Wenji in the center.
I stayed near the back, partly because I didn't want eyes on me.
Partly because I felt something behind us.
Something watching.
Snow crunched—
too softly.
Too rhythmically.
I turned—
Nothing.
Just white.
But my instincts screamed.
The same instincts sharpened by years of distorted dreams.
"Keep walking," Mira whispered beside me.
She had noticed my tension.
Her eyes darted around.
I nodded.
We moved.
Hours passed.
Or minutes.
Or days.
Time didn't exist on that mountain.
Only fear.
Only exhaustion.
Only the sensation of being hunted.
The First Attack
It came silently.
A flicker in the snow.
A shadow darting beneath the surface.
Then—
SNNNK.
Something erupted upward—a beast with a mouth like a jagged ice tunnel.
Dozens of teeth.
Frost spreading from its breath.
A Burrowfang.
Rowan shouted,
"BACK!"
It lunged toward Wenji.
Tae-woon intercepted with a downward strike using a broken spear he had scavenged earlier.
CRACK.
The spear snapped.
Tae was thrown back.
The Burrowfang twisted, snow whipping around its serpentine body.
Rohan tried to run but slipped on ice.
Mira shot forward, pulling Wenji aside just as the creature stabbed the ground where she had been standing.
The beast hissed and dove beneath the snow again.
"Eyes everywhere!" Mira warned.
We formed a tight circle—
shackled wrists making it awkward,
but instinct driving us.
The snow bulged.
"It's coming!" Tae shouted.
My pulse slowed.
My vision sharpened.
A familiar clarity struck me—
I could track its movement beneath the snow.
The faintest ripple.
The softest vibration.
Trauma sharpened into instinct.
Instinct sharpened into precision.
I pointed.
"There!"
It burst upward where my hand aimed.
Tae pivoted and landed a spinning heel kick straight into its jaw.
The creature reeled.
Mira sliced its eye with a dagger.
Rowan tackled its midsection with a broken shield, pinning it down.
Wenji dug his chain links into its exposed flesh, trying to restrain it.
It thrashed violently—
Then Shen Yuan moved.
Not with martial grace.
Not with cultivation power.
But with desperation.
He drove his fist into the ice beside the beast, loosening the ground—
And Mira shoved the Burrowfang backward.
It slid into the hole—
And impaled itself on a jagged ice spike.
It convulsed.
Then froze.
Dead.
Panting filled the air.
No victory.
Only survival.
Barely.
More attacks followed.
Snow-wolves with ice-coated fur.
Frost-crows that screeched like grinding metal.
A pack of thin, humanoid silhouettes that vanished whenever looked at directly.
Each battle was messy.
Bloody.
Terrifying.
We used chains as whips.
Broken swords.
Shattered shields.
Rocks.
Our fists.
Our teeth.
And every battle left us fewer.
One fell to wolves.
Another was taken by the thin shadows.
Another simply collapsed and never woke.
By the time night arrived—
if it was truly night—
we had lost all but the eight of us.
The mountain felt alive.
Hungry.
And still we climbed.
Hours later—
or a lifetime later—
the snow thinned.
A frozen staircase carved from blue ice appeared.
At its summit—
an ancient temple.
The Temple of Frost and Thunder.
Columns cracked by time.
Gargoyles buried in snow.
A massive door, covered in glowing runes pulsing with faint silver lightning.
Mira breathed out.
"We made it…"
Rowan nodded slowly.
"Or we reached the place where we die."
Shen Yuan looked at it with reverence.
"…My master once spoke of this temple. It was a sanctuary for warriors who sought inner peace."
Wenji shook his head.
"Then why does it feel like it's watching us?"
Rohan shivered.
"Because it is."
The wind went silent.
Completely.
As if the mountain itself held its breath.
Then—
BOOM
The temple door opened outward by itself.
Cold light spilled out.
A deeper cold.
Older.
Heavier.
We stepped forward.
Because there was nowhere else to go.
Not up.
Not down.
Not back.
The moment our feet crossed the threshold—
The runes blazed.
Silver lightning shot through the walls.
A voice—not heard, but felt—echoed through our bones.
"ENTER, LOST ONES."
The temple sealed itself behind us.
And the real nightmare began.