Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, ten cycles of flowers blooming and withering, nine cycles of snow falling and melting, had passed.
More than nine years had rushed by, and now it was the winter of 649.
For days, thick snowflakes had been falling non-stop, covering the ground knee-deep in a thick, white layer. The entire land was blanketed in silver, with icy winds howling through the remote town. The freezing gusts, sharp as blades, swept across this isolated settlement, which was over a hundred kilometers away from the nearest city. Due to its poor transportation and impassable roads, the town was not only cut off from news but even its customs and traditions seemed out of place in modern times, resembling life from a century or two ago.
Two men, dressed like farmers or hunters, trudged through the heavy snow, carrying their tools as they battled against the wind. Despite their thick fur coats, their noses and cheeks were flushed red from the biting cold.
"Ugh! Working in this freezing weather is the worst!" one of them complained as he walked.
"What can we do?" The other man sighed, his breath instantly turning into white mist in the frigid air. "It's the end of the year—everyone's breaking their backs to scrape together enough to pay their taxes." Then, his face darkened with resentment as he gritted his teeth. "Ever since that master appeared at Rost's castle, that fat bastard's been raising the rent and taxes like crazy!"
The first man narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the path through the blizzard. He cursed under his breath. "That damn fat pig, he'll get what's coming to him one day!"
"Keep your voice down. It's not just us suffering—every town and village in this region is struggling under his rule. And what happened to those who couldn't take it anymore and tried to rebel against Rost these past two years?" The man shivered, wrapping his fur collar tighter around himself. Snow clung to his eyebrows, nose, and lips as he spoke in a heavy tone. "Thrown off the ice cliffs, that's what! Their bodies were never even found!"
He sighed again.
The other man scowled, his expression filled with frustration and helplessness. Rost was the largest landowner across the six towns surrounding the castle, which sat atop the eastern mountain as an ancestral stronghold. His family had always imposed heavy taxes on the people, but at least there had been a limit—after all, they feared that pushing too hard might spark a rebellion.
But ever since that mysterious master arrived at the castle two years ago, things had spiraled out of control. The land taxes, shop taxes—everything skyrocketed, changing month after month. The entire region was drowning in misery, yet Rost remained untouchable, as if he had nothing to fear.
No one knew where he had found this so-called master, but the man had crushed every attempted uprising—farmers, hunters, merchants—all of them were suppressed with terrifying ease.
Rumors said many had died.
The mountain road connecting the castle to the outside world had long since become a one-way path. No one had left in a long time.
Resistance was futile. Escape was impossible.
The people could do nothing but endure.
They toiled, shedding sweat and blood, to feed those in the castle. They paid for the luxuries Rost and his people indulged in, while they themselves lived in suffering. The castle and the outside world were like two completely separate realms.
As the two men trudged forward, wrapped in their grim thoughts, they suddenly noticed two figures approaching through the storm.
At first, they paid no attention. Many people still had to work and travel despite the brutal weather. But as the figures came closer, something felt… off.
These two individuals—who were now becoming clearer in the swirling snow—seemed completely unaffected by the storm. While everyone else struggled through the knee-deep snow, these two strolled as if they were taking a casual walk on a pleasant spring day.
The men exchanged wary glances. The closer the figures got, the stranger the situation became.
Finally, the two figures emerged from the snowstorm—a man and a woman, both elderly.
Judging by their faces, they appeared to be at least fifty, though their snow-white hair made them look closer to sixty. And yet, their energy, their presence… it radiated a youthful vitality, more fitting for someone in their thirties or forties.
The storm raged around them—howling winds, thick flurries of snow. But their clothing, their hair, their faces—completely untouched. Not a single snowflake clung to them. Not even the hem of their robes was damp.
"This…"
As the four figures passed each other, the two farmers could only stare blankly at the mysterious elders, who seemed utterly indifferent to their presence. The elderly pair simply continued their leisurely conversation, strolling through the storm as if they were walking through a flower-filled meadow on a warm spring day.
As they passed, the farmers overheard a snippet of the old man's soft murmuring—
"Heh, little Ninn has grown up… But why are you, as her father, getting involved in a young girl's worries? Let your wife take care of it instead… Hmm, your mother and I will be passing through West City soon. We'll stop by your place and visit our granddaughter…"
His voice, filled with light laughter, drifted away with the wind, becoming fainter and fainter until it finally disappeared into the blizzard.
Who was this old man talking to?
It didn't seem like he was speaking to the elderly woman beside him…
The two men in fur coats were each puzzled but, strangely, quickly and voluntarily dismissed and ignored all the oddities—like how the two figures remained completely dry despite the heavy snowfall, or how they seemed to be speaking to someone unseen.
"Grk!"
Suddenly, from the gray sky, amidst the falling snowflakes, a fiery red cloud descended—it was actually a strikingly beautiful red pigeon!
The crimson pigeon flapped its wings, hovering briefly in front of the two men trudging through the knee-deep snow.
The moment its avian gaze fell upon them, both men felt an inexplicable chill run down their spines, as though they had been marked by something far more terrifying than being stalked by a tiger or a dinosaur in the deep mountains.
Fortunately, the red pigeon paid them little attention, merely lingering for a moment before soaring past them.
And just like before, the two men quickly forgot and disregarded the eerie encounter. They resumed their arduous journey through the snow, complaining to one another, as if they had never come across the old man, the old woman, or the red pigeon at all.
Taro raised his hand, a soft ki aura enveloping his palm. The now-miniature phoenix perched atop the back of his hand, nestling comfortably within the energy field, its expression one of pure contentment and enjoyment. As he walked alongside Hathaway through the snow, he muttered softly, "Jarvis, any luck tracking down the species of that 'Rainbow-feathered Bird' from the data I sent you?"
"No, Mr. Taro," a mechanical, synthesized male voice replied—directly in Taro's mind.
Despite being countless miles away from the island where he and Hathaway resided, Taro could effortlessly communicate with the island's research lab and the super-intelligent AI, Jarvis, using only his psychic abilities—a testament to the profound mastery he had achieved in spiritual magic.
Hearing her husband talking to himself, Hathaway glanced at him with a smile. "You really do have it easy." She patted a metallic bracelet on her wrist.
Taro returned her smile, holding the tiny phoenix in one hand while intertwining his fingers with hers in the other. The couple gradually left the snow-covered town behind, though with the entire world blanketed in white, there was little distinction between inside and outside the town's boundaries.
As they walked, Taro shared with Hathaway the impressions he had gathered from the townsfolk's subconscious thoughts.
"There are people like that?" Hathaway frowned, gazing at the snow that obscured their view. "Should we take care of the ones in that castle for them?" Her tone was utterly casual, as if the matter was of little consequence.
"I don't really care either way, so I'll leave it up to you," Taro shrugged. He reached out and swiped a hand over the metallic bracelet on Hathaway's wrist while saying, "Jarvis, project a map of this area."
The moment he spoke, a thin beam of light shot out from Hathaway's bracelet, following the motion of his hand. In the frigid air before them, the light coalesced into a glowing screen, which quickly transformed into a three-dimensional holographic map.
It displayed the town, the surrounding mountains, terraced fields, foothills… and the castle atop the mountain.
Hathaway extended her hand toward the far eastern corner of the projection, where a small fortress sat perched on a cliffside. With a simple gesture, she spread her fingers apart, zooming in on the image. "This should be the place, right?"
Taro nodded.
The next instant, the swirling snow enveloped them, their footprints disappearing without a trace.
---
Inside Rost Castle.
"Who goes there?!"
A knight standing guard outside in the blizzard jolted upright, eyes widening as two figures and a bird appeared out of thin air. Instinctively, he barked out a warning.
The fourteen knights stationed at the entrance immediately sprang into action, raising their spears as they moved to encircle the unexpected visitors.
The castle gates were tightly shut, and their duty was clear—no one was to trespass.
As long as they held their posts for a full year, their families would be exempt from half the taxes owed to the castle's master. No matter what, they couldn't allow any accidents to happen.
But…
Neither Taro nor even Hathaway paid them the slightest mind.
The fourteen spearheads glinted with icy menace, their steel tips reflecting the pale, snowy light. Yet, at that moment, the red pigeon perched on Taro's hand let out a sharp cry, flapping its small wings twice in the direction of the encircling knights.
BOOM—!
Despite their delicate appearance, the tiny wings stirred up an unimaginable gale, a whirlwind far more ferocious than the raging blizzard around them.
In an instant, all fourteen knights were blown away, their bodies slamming into the castle walls with heavy thuds—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Like fourteen flattened pancakes, they slid down the stone surfaces, unconscious before they could even comprehend what had happened.
Taro didn't slow his pace, continuing toward the castle gates with Hathaway at his side.
BOOM!
With a casual flick of his fingers across the empty space, Taro sent out a pulse of energy—
Boom!
The massive castle gates exploded into countless fragments, reduced to mere dust in an instant.
The contrast between the raging snowstorm outside and the spring-like warmth within the castle was stark. Taro and Hathaway stepped in without concern, their expressions unchanged. For Hathaway, this was no different from their travels over the past year. She remained calm, following by Taro's side.
"Who goes there?! Which fool dares trespass this time?! Master, why don't you deal with them for me?"
From deep within the castle, a grotesquely obese man emerged, a walking mound of flesh. Hathaway's face immediately twisted in distaste, and she halted her steps.
Taro stopped as well, but not because of the fat man. Even though this man was the reason they had come, he wasn't the one who had caught Taro's attention.
Instead, Taro's gaze locked onto the person standing beside him.
That person, too, was watching him, eyes slightly narrowed.
A youthful face framed by long, silver-white hair—
There was no mistaking it.
After decades apart, standing before him once more was none other than Tsuru.