Extreme Cold Survival Training (2)
"Save me! Tiger, tiger! It's right behind me!"
"…How the hell did you get bitten by a magic beast, bro?"
"I don't know! It just burst out of nowhere! I didn't hear a damn thing…"
It was before I came to Arsen Academy. Back when we endured training that was practically survival of the fittest to become Esperand assassins. Countless kids were tossed into the snowfields, clad in rags little better than burlap sacks, clutching nothing but a tiny dagger.
We'd been through harsh drills before that, of course. But the kids who made it this far were the elite of the elite, having survived every trial. Even so, being dumped out there with just a dagger and those rags was brutal.
The cold itself wasn't the real issue. Any kid worthy of the Esperand name had already stepped onto the path of the superhuman. A superhuman body could endure extreme environments—volcanic zones, swamps, deserts, frozen tundras—to a certain degree. Not immortality, mind you; just holding out a bit longer than an ordinary person.
With their insane natural recovery, minor wounds healed on their own. Toss in herbs or potions, and even serious injuries mended without much fuss. That's the superhuman body for you.
So Camille's wound from that tiger—no, the snowfield saber-tooth tiger—was more severe than it seemed.
"What… is this?"
"Herbs to help with the healing. It's gonna hurt like hell, so if you scream—"
"Gah! Aaaargh! Aaack!"
Left alone, Camille Esperand fled with his leg mangled by the saber-tooth tiger's jaws. He stumbled into the cave where I was holed up and barely clung to life. Looking back, that's when Camille's attitude toward me started to shift. If I hadn't saved him then, he would've been torn apart right there.
Camille and I survived the snowfield saber-tooth tiger and hunkered down deep in that cave—the very spot I'm walking through now.
"Never thought I'd end up back here…"
The cave I reached by dredging up old memories still bore traces of human presence. Not signs of some lost wanderer, but the marks of life Camille and I had scratched into the walls during our temporary stay.
'Time passes, and it all becomes fond memories, huh.'
I reached out and slowly brushed my trembling hand against a deep, jagged gouge that had been carved into the frigid cave wall, feeling the rough and abrasive texture as it sharply scratched against my sensitive fingertips. I had meticulously carved those marks with deliberate precision to keep a mental and physical tally of the passing days—a subtle gesture of survival that Camille never truly managed to grasp or appreciate—yet I knew exactly what that half-finished character was meant to signify: the jeong, representing a path of righteousness and a straight, unwavering spirit. It remained only half-completed and hauntingly frozen in time because, on our third grueling day within those suffocating depths, our fragile progress was violently interrupted when we unexpectedly ran into a massive, bear-like magic beast that forced us into a desperate struggle for our lives.
Charging at it with just a dagger? Suicide. Camille and I had no choice but to abandon the cave and head out. No matter how tough a superhuman body is, you can't survive a snowy mountain night naked. Even hunters or superhumans would succumb to hypothermia.
It was disorienting at the time, but in hindsight, it worked out. We left the cave and found a safer hideout.
'Hold on.'
Maybe that was still around too. Dressed in my snowfield ghillie suit, I trudged through the snow. Luckily, Nilbania Mountain wasn't just a barren wasteland of white. Its climate resembled the tundra, with fir trees and all sorts of vegetation in places.
If luck held, the camp we'd painstakingly scraped together from those resources might still be intact. I climbed to higher ground and scanned the snowfields with my Watcher's Eye.
"…?"
The first thing I spotted was a group of four or five cadets huddled together. Faces I didn't recognize from Class A—probably just extras.
Then my gaze caught something else. Crouched in the underbrush, glaring: a snowfield saber-tooth tiger. True to its name, it sported a pair of elongated fangs. A feline magic beast, cunning as they come.
'Traveling in a pack like that isn't meaningless, is it?'
Most feline magic beasts don't hunt in groups. That's why they're sharp—they know who they can mess with and who they can't. A lone cadet passing by? Might've been worth a stare. Hell, Camille Esperand got ambushed solo once.
But a bunch together? That's a threat in itself. Fool around without knowing your place, and you'd end up hunted, just another protein source.
I turned east. Sheer cliffs stretched toward the mountain peak, barren rock without a blade of grass.
And the location of the cave where Camille and I had hidden.
After a thorough search, I picked up faint traces of mana. They looked like symbols at a glance, but only I would recognize them. I'd left them along the path as markers.
Even with Telescopic Vision, blizzards limit visibility.
'Why's the weather on this damn mountain always like this?'
Nilbania Mountain's climate could flip in an instant. Leaving breadcrumbs like Hansel and Gretel? They'd get buried. Stick a signpost in the ground? Wind would rip it away.
So I'd infused mana into runes at key spots. Trace the visible marks, and you'd reach my old camp.
Ordinary magic would've faded in this climate, but these were rune-carved. A beginner trick taught by Sato, my instructor back at the Esperand estate.
"This is rune magic. A technique favored by Eastern hunters."
"Practice it in your spare time. It'll come in handy someday."
Seemed pointless back then, but now? Useful. Rune magic's a lost art in the modern world—no one else would spot it. Well, almost no one. At Arsen, only Professor Reina might.
At the same time, on the far side of Nilbania Mountain—beyond the reach of Shion Esperand's telescopic vision—two unlucky cadets faced off against a magic beast in the rugged wilds.
"…What do we do? Fight it? Or nah?"
"Two of us against one? We can take it."
"But that's a real magic beast. Mess up, and we're dead."
"Uh, well…"
The beast before them was a feline magic beast the size of a man—Nilbania's tyrant, known outside as the snowfield black panther.
Of all the rotten luck. A yak-like beast? They'd have crushed it. But no, they crossed paths with a carnivore bigger than a saber-tooth tiger. Its fangs, thicker than a finger, gleamed, sending shivers down their spines.
Arsen taught how to handle magic beasts. Three key rules, first and foremost:
One: Never show fear. Even if you're terrified, hide it. The moment you let a magic beast seize the initiative, you're prey, not a threat.
Tremble, tremble—
The two cadets broke rule one.
"Ah, ahhh, i-it's coming!"
"Hey, wait—!"
Rule two: Slowly secure a safe distance. Stay calm.
They blew that too. But the real killer was breaking rule three.
"Hey! Where are you going…! If you run now!"
Never turn your back when fleeing.
The two bolted like rabbits from the black panther. To it, they were just scared prey. The chase began.
Of course, it was faster. Distance closed in seconds. As it pounced on the trailing cadet—
"Forfeit! Stop! Stop!"
Whoosh—!
Before the claws hit, the fallen cadet called for reverse summon. As the beam of light faded, he was gone—probably back to Georged Hall.
Better a penalty than death.
"Hey…"
The remaining cadet collapsed in despair. No fight left, especially after his buddy bailed.
He glanced at his watch, ready to forfeit quietly—
Crack-bam—!
Hailstones plummeted from the sky, smashing the ground. The snowfield black panther leaped aside, but the barrage pursued relentlessly.
In the end, the panther retreated first. It snarled a warning, then vanished into the snowfields.
Only then did the hail stop. Approaching the fallen cadet was a blue-haired female mage in cadet uniform.
"You okay?"
"Y-yeah… Thanks."
A graceful peacock perched on her shoulder as she approached with poised steps.
Lara Steelhiden. Freshly back in class, she'd been thrown into this brutal field training but adapted faster than anyone.
Lara brushed off the thanks. To her, this was basic kindness—what anyone would've done. Just like the help she'd received before enrolling at Arsen.
A small act of goodwill? She could spare it easily.
"Anyway, thanks! Stay safe out there!"
She looked the part of a relaxed savior, but maintaining her composure took everything she had.
"…"
Once the cadet vanished into the distance, Lara exhaled the breath she'd held. Half her mana was gone just keeping buffs active. At this rate, she'd burn out before the day was up.
She needed shelter before nightfall.
'A cave, maybe a tree… Anything.'
Lara closed her eyes, focusing her mind. Spirits were everywhere—snowfields, deserts, volcanoes. They adapted to any environment, shifting affinities to match.
When she opened her eyes, she turned back the way she'd come. Tiny snowmen-like snow spirits waved at her.
Following their lead, Lara trekked across the snowfields. Nights came quick at high altitude.
The first day of survival training was already drawing to a close.