The Snow Woman I Created: The Spiral of Fate
She had been a child back then.
It was the time when Crown Prince Artan Prickus was still a little one.
Something felt off.
Could a child ever become the protagonist of the story...?
Artan Prickus, the Crown Prince who had once enjoyed immense fame — no, who would one day enjoy it — had been expected to be a central figure in Sa-gye War II.
Of course he was supposed to be one of the main characters.
But it had turned out to be a mistake.
Or perhaps... the story begins by building up the protagonist from his childhood?
That possibility existed too.
After all, she knew almost nothing about Sa-gye War II.
How could anyone exclude a talent like Artan?
If that were the case, why had the narrative been constructed that way?
That only made it more urgent to meet him.
She had to verify whether Artan’s setting had really changed or not.
Fortunately, the Artan of his adulthood was already a complete being.
He would be a difficult opponent in every way.
But as a child, he should be easy to handle.
Wait a second, this might actually be... an opportunity.
She had recalled a certain event from his youth.
He had gone off on his own to some ruins and gotten himself into trouble, hadn’t he?
She happened to know where those ruins were.
So that’s it.
She looked up at the ruins’ records.
Ruins were mysterious and rare structures.
Since everything that happened in them had already occurred in ancient times, new ones did not appear.
Any visible ruins had long since been excavated.
The ones still hidden were either concealed in remote regions or only appeared after meeting specific conditions.
This new ruin was no exception.
Some laborers had accidentally disturbed a sleeping guard, triggering a defense mechanism.
And that had caused the strange weather.
Even if such a rare event occurred, how many were there?
Moreover, in the Arundel Empire — where most frontier regions had already been settled — the appearance of a brand-new ruin was something that might happen only once every few hundred years.
Therefore, the ruins Artan had headed toward were the only ones with that attribute.
They had appeared suddenly, drawn his attention, and were located not too far from the imperial capital, far enough that he could go there alone.
It was pure coincidence that the destinations overlapped.
Good, it worked out better than expected.
There was no need for her to go meet him.
If he came to her, she would welcome it.
Moreover, it would allow a private conversation without any interference.
Most importantly, by helping the boy who was in distress and earning his gratitude, her future would become much brighter.
Let’s see, he should be arriving around this time.
Given how much attention the ruins had received, he might already be on his way.
She could not afford to be late.
If she did, it would all be for nothing.
She hurried toward the destination at once.
Meanwhile, Anasha Sheril had returned to the empire and was using old connections to seek help.
Hmph, it’s going to be tough.
Don’t say that... I want to help you too, but you can see the desperation in your face.
Even before high-level monsters, that emotion was absent.
She had placed the refugees in temporary housing through influential allies connected to them.
Their treatment would be handled by the empire’s upper authorities.
Anasha focused her efforts on hunting the Snake God.
If you want help, hide that emotion or go find someone who doesn’t know you.
A well-known adventurer who had once worked with her as a temporary member shook his head.
Anasha lowered her gaze, quickly regained her will, and moved on to the next person.
He was the captain of a prestigious mercenary band.
When magic personnel were lacking, he had once hired her as a temporary member.
...The Snake God?
Yes. Because of it, the city... is in ruins now.
Enough. Whether such a being really exists is doubtful, but I know one thing: I’m staying out of it.
Anasha was a skilled combat mage.
Although she had been away from the empire for a long time, she had been quite famous during her active years.
People with connections to her were not ordinary.
They had been intrigued by the stories of a being called a god, even though they were skeptical.
After all, they had crossed countless lines.
They were not frightened; instead, their competitive spirit had been stirred.
The only problem was that Anasha was the one who had passed on the news.
They knew her strength well.
A woman who, even in her youth, possessed power comparable to theirs.
A warrior with a heart that did not easily know fear.
Who could have turned a monster into something that made her beg so desperately for help?
She had gone back to her hometown, which she could no longer resolve on her own, and rummaged through old business acquaintances.
Her crisis-detecting senses sharpened by crossing so many lines began to ring.
They loved adventure and challenge, but they would not rush into danger of their own accord.
Go back.
Anasha, who had been driven away again, stood dazed for a moment before knocking on doors one after another.
Every time she encountered someone from her memories, she made her request with sincerity.
She truly wanted to defeat the Snake God.
Her beloved city, her second home, had been destroyed.
With her outstanding sociability, she knew many people.
Because of that one Snake God, everyone was drowning in grief, and some had crossed the river from which there was no return.
Now there was no turning back.
Only by sending the monster back to the earth could it end.
Why...?
Yet every request for help had been turned down.
Could her expression really be that strange?
She had known it would not be easy, but she had never imagined everyone would reject her.
Why had those brave warriors...?
—I can catch it.
Suddenly the image of the snowy woman flashed into her mind.
The scenes that had remained imprinted in her mind ever since that day were like afterimages.
Could the statement that she could catch the Snake God be true?
Information about gods could be found in various ancient texts.
Beings who stand above all life.
She did not know what qualifications were required to become a god.
But the Snake God was certainly a monster worthy of being called a demonic god.
Could one truly defeat it?
When that question arose, the landscape would come to mind as if in recollection.
A blizzard raged, and her blue-white hair fluttered in the wind.
Her still figure gazing at the sky from the heart of the cold was both cold and beautiful.
Was she truly human?
If one could kill a god, she would no longer be human.
Killing a god... was unthinkable.
—It’s disgusting.
—What?
—A god.
She could never forget the expression on Quillere’s face at that time.
It seemed she harbored a deep hatred for gods.
What had led her to that?
What footsteps had she walked that had created such a person?
Now there is no way to know.
Quillere had left.
There was no way to meet her, and even if she did meet her, there was no reason for her to assist in the Snake God hunt.
If she could borrow her power, it would be perfect, but the timing had been missed.
Anasha let out a sigh and decided to go to her “last resort.”
She had no desire to go, nor had she considered it, but it was her final lifeline.
The strongest force among the connections she knew.
Anasha, is this how it should be done?
A girl with an innocent, smiling face had radiated light.
The imperial palace was wrapped in darkness.
After curfew, the boy who had closed his eyes in the dark bedroom suddenly sat up.
His eyes were bright, as if they had not even noticed the arrival of evil.
Artan, the boy, moved stealthily toward the window.
He had used a special gait learned in secret during training with his swordmaster so that the palace guards would not sense his approach.
No one will know...
His footsteps filled with magic were unnaturally quiet.
Artan was an exceptional existence even among geniuses.
Just that he was using magic at this age was remarkable, and he also possessed control and manipulation that surpassed ordinary knights.
It was no wonder the palace knights praised him as “divinely gifted talent.”
But perhaps because he was born with too much talent, Artan’s self-regard was extremely high.
He hated adults who looked up to him and saw him only as someone who needed protection.
Being looked up to was fine.
He had become qualified to be looked up to.
But why, whenever he tried to do something, did they always oppose him and refuse to let him leave the palace as they pleased?
I am not a weakling.
Artan considered himself a strong man.
In reality, even a lower-ranking knight could barely defeat him.
Thinking about his age, it was absurd.
Therefore... dealing with even one ruin alone was more than enough.
Even at night, the palace guards were quite vigilant.
They had probably heightened their defense after he had slipped out earlier and been caught.
He had been momentarily startled, but he had no intention of giving up.
He focused his mind and released his magic even more delicately.
His light steps landed on the wall.
He concealed himself behind the wall and barrier, moving through the guards’ sight lines with precise timing.
It was an astonishing feat.
I will change your minds.
News of a new ruin had appeared near Robrok, and the imperial capital had been thrown into chaos.
Especially scholars with deep knowledge of archaeology had shone with excitement.
Artan had first learned of the ruins’ existence at that moment.
The lightning-like sensation that seized him had left him breathless.
This was it.
A structure that everyone revered and praised without reserve.
If he resolved it alone, they would have no choice but to look at him again.
He would no longer be treated as a weakling.
If I can just take the artifact that is said to be sleeping inside the ruins...
More than anything, it would serve as undeniable proof.
Moreover, a certain excitement stirred within him.
A hero who would break through the ruins, receive the recognition of the artifact that had been sealed for hundreds or thousands of years.
He was like a legendary hero.
It was a distorted psychology born from rebellious feelings toward adults who opposed his will.
That childish mind was driving many people, including himself, into a swamp... but the Artan of today could not realize it.
Artan moved through the palace with the movement of a spy.
There had been precarious moments, but he had used his wits to avoid being discovered.
Eventually he reached the starting point of the imperial capital near the stables.
At just the right moment, a stablehand was still there, and Artan thought the heavens themselves were helping him.
Hey.
Eh? Who... ugh!
The faithful stablehand, who had stayed late to repair the carriage, was shocked.
What on earth was the Crown Prince doing here?
It must have been long past curfew.
He bowed his head, trembling.
Y-Your Highness the Crown Prince. W-what brings Your Highness to come here in person...
A superior he could not even look directly at.
Confused, the stablehand could not recall the proper etiquette.
When he realized he was lacking in respect and began to kneel, Artan stopped him.
Enough. More importantly, stablehand, take me with you.
...Yes?
The stablehand thought his ears were playing tricks.
What kind of nonsense was this?
Someone of the Crown Prince’s status did not simply go out.
A carefully managed, high-quality carriage and stablehand, along with a number of palace guards, would be required... in such a case.
Th-the Crown Prince. Where is everyone else?
Yes. There was no one around the Prince.
It was impossible, and it should not have been possible.
The stablehand felt a sudden surge of unease.
I will not say it twice. Take me.
Yet the boy’s firm words forced him to lower his head and obey.
Artan boarded the carriage that the stablehand had been repairing, and soon the driver’s seat was filled as well.
Soon the carriage began to rumble toward the outer gates.
The number of guards at the outer gates was the smallest of all entrances to the imperial capital.
Moreover, it was late at night.
One or two tired guards would be easily overpowered.
If awakened guards alerted the situation, pursuit would begin.
In fact, riding on horseback would have been far more mobile.
However, the Crown Prince had never experienced riding a horse — that “inconvenient thing.”
He had only ever used the comfortable seats of the carriage, so he had not considered it.
He was immature and reckless in many ways.
