“Hah… hah… hah.” My breath smoked white in the dark, and my strength melted like frost in the sun.

When the ice-wolf pack finally drifted off like a receding blizzard, I just collapsed on the glass-cold ground, chest heaving like bellows in winter.

My Sword Domain thinned into mist, its edge fading like a dying star behind clouds.

That burst of power a moment ago roared like a flood, and it burned my stamina to ash like dry straw.

All day in this Extreme Cold Hell, I’d eaten nothing but ice-crystal fruit, so my stomach was an empty drum beating in the wind.

If I don’t eat something that isn’t fruit, I’ll black out, I thought, dread pooling like ink at the pit of my gut.

Even when I fought the Ice Wolf King earlier, fatigue crept up like creeping ice, numbing limbs before I’d even settled into the fight.

And gods, it’s cold—like knives in the marrow—while my Sword Aura now is only a thin veil, fluttering like torn silk against the gale.

I, Yumigawa Sumeragi of the Mizumi Clan, once lived in the Central Continent like a warm spring under a silk canopy, never hungry, never cold.

Now hunger gnawed like rats at a granary, and cold bit like wolves at bone; the pain shocked me like a slap of snowmelt.

I knew lying on this ice-slick ground might mean death, like a candle left in a draft, but my body wouldn’t move, slack as a spent bowstring.

If only I’d asked FrostyLily Dream for food before entering the Nine Cold Labyrinth, I thought, eyes on a night sky black as lacquer.

The stars were needles of frost in velvet, and my vision blurred like frost over glass.

“Hey, are you alright?” A timid voice chimed in my ear, warm breath brushing my cheek like a spring breeze through reeds.

“Who…?” I forced my eyes open against the drift of sleep, turning my head like a door creaking in the cold.

Through a snowy haze, I saw a tiny, softly glowing figure hovering by me, small as a doll and bright as a firefly in dusk.

“Food…” I parted my lips, the word rasping out like dry leaves.

“Eh? What?” The sprite tilted her tiny head, cute as a curious sparrow in snow.

“I want… food,” I said again, louder, the need beating like drums.

“Ah, got it! Please hold on, I’ll be right back!” she said, and her transparent wings unfurled like crystal art under moonlight.

She whooshed away into the dark like a falling star, and I clung to one thought like a raft on a winter river: stay awake.

Time trickled past like icy water under a frozen crust, and my eyelids fell like mountain gates.

I can’t hold out, I’ll just nap a little, I told myself, thoughts drifting like flakes—just a little…

“Hey! Don’t sleep—please don’t!” Her timid voice rang again, a bell in the snow, and something soft pressed past my lips like a warm cloud.

“Eat, please! You mustn’t drift off!” she urged, voice bright as a lantern in a storm.

“Mmm…” Instinct took over, and I chewed; it was soft and a little sweet, like bread or cake kissed by honey.

Gulp. It slid down like warm spring water, and a thread of strength wound back through me like a thawing stream.

“I want more,” I murmured, the hunger still clawing like ivy on stone.

“Y-yes! Take your time—there’s plenty,” she said, and she tucked another piece between my lips with hands light as snowflakes.

“Thanks.” The word rose like steam, simple and honest in the cold.

Half an hour passed like embers settling, and I ate until warmth pooled in me like a banked fire.

“Here, have some water.” She took a bottle from a little basket, the glass clear as ice.

“Yeah. Thank you—really,” I said, giving her a look bright with gratitude, like dawn touching frost.

“Ehehe.” Pink bloomed on her snow-white cheeks like peach petals in late winter, and she ducked her head, shy as a fawn.

So cute my arms ached to hug her like a cold cat to a brazier—but she saved me, and I held that impulse like a lid on boiling water.

When I drained the bottle, I felt fed and watered, like a withered tree finally drinking rain.

“I can’t repay you now, but I’ll remember this life-saving grace like a knot tied in red thread,” I said, standing to dust off snow and ice.

“It’s really not a big deal!” she flustered, hands fluttering like startled sparrows. “Y-you don’t have to be so formal—please, lift your head!”

“Alright.” I’m not the type to cling to ceremony; I let the bow go like a leaf on wind.

“Right—my name’s Yumigawa Sumeragi. What should I call you? You’re a sprite, right?” I asked, curiosity stirring like fish under ice.

“Ah—y-yes!” she blurted, and she bit her tongue, cute as a kitten tripping over yarn.

“I’m a snow sprite from the Mountain of Extreme Ice. My name is Michelle Aira—just call me Michelle,” she said, voice clear as chimes.

“Michelle? That’s a lovely name,” I said with a small laugh, like a spark.

“N-no, it’s just ordinary,” she said, but joy lit her face like winter sunlight on fresh snow.

If Serenemoon were here, she’d scoop Michelle up without a word and rub cheeks like a warm cat claiming a lap, I thought, smiling to myself.

“Um, Sumeragi-kun, why are you smiling?” Michelle asked from my shoulder, her gaze curious as a robin’s.

“It’s nothing. I just thought of my adorable sister,” I said, and missing her weighed on me like a soft, familiar cloak.

“Standing here’s a bit cold. Let’s head to the cave,” I added, the wind keening like a flute.

“Okay,” she said, and we moved through the pale night like two sparks seeking shelter.

Back in the cave, I found the fire still alive, a small sun cradled in stone, and relief washed over me like warm rain.

I fed it with more wood, and flames climbed like dancing lilies, painting the rock in gold.

“Ahh… so warm,” I breathed, almost crying, the heat soaking in like tea.

“Yeah, so warm,” Michelle said, circling the fire like a happy moth.

“I’ll sleep first. Good night, Michelle,” I said, settling by the blaze like a tired wolf in its den.

“Good night, Sumeragi-kun,” she chimed, voice soft as down.

“You should sleep early too, even if dawn’s an hour or two away,” I said, eyelids heavy as snow.

“Ah—r-right!” she answered, tongue tripping like a skipped note.

“Heh.” I saw her wince and bit my smile into dreams, sinking like a feather through still air.

“Uuu, I bit my tongue again—how embarrassing,” Michelle murmured, her face flushing red as a winter berry.

Then she saw my peaceful smile and drifted into a daze, her thoughts floating like snowflakes. “Sumeragi-kun is really beautiful… hard to believe he’s a boy.”

In the firelight, my long golden hair shone like liquid sunlight, and she stared, spellbound as if seeing a rare aurora.

And so, like a page turned under quiet stars, my first day in the Nine Cold Labyrinth ended, safe and sound.