The continuous, rhythmic rattling of the sixth carriage's heavy timber frame finally began to slow as the iron-reinforced wheels crunched over a radically different terrain. Seven grueling hours had dissolved into the transit, the carriage steadily climbing the winding, vertical pathways of the outer mountain passes.
Through the narrow, iron-grated window of the transport, the stark landscape of the capital had completely vanished. It was now twilight. The deep, bruising indigo of the night sky bled over the horizon, casting a chilling, monochromatic shadow across a sprawling expanse of pure, untouched white.
Snow.
We had officially breached the threshold of the Northern Borders… the frozen, treacherous scar tissue that separated the Andromeda continent from the apocalyptic, heretical wastes of Triangulum.
Inside the dim, cramped cabin of the sixth carriage, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. I sat perfectly motionless in the corner, the heavy canvas hood of my flame-resistant crimson trench coat pulled low over my Leech's Hollow Mask. Flanking me on the reinforced wooden benches were several of the highest-ranking Luminous Knights on the Bureau's leaderboard. These were the elite, battle-hardened veterans of the upper echelons, their heavy white-and-scarlet plate armor etched with glowing defensive runes. They kept their hands resting strictly on the hilts of their greatswords, their eyes tracking the frozen landscape outside with grim, silent determination. To them, I was merely the mysterious, silent 7th-place Bounty Hunter… a lethal wild card deployed to bolster their vanguard.
Miles ahead, leading the entire convoy through the biting mountain wind, was the first carriage containing my eldest sister, Elicia Rynd.
Sitting alone in the dark, my analytical mind began to mechanically dissect and contrast our respective biological and magical frameworks. Elicia was the undisputed apex of medical authority for a reason: she possessed Divine Regeneration. Unlike standard high-tier holy magic, her unique affinity operated on a structural, absolute level. She could completely regenerate entirely missing limbs, recreate shattered organs, and knit severed nervous systems back together with a hyper-accelerated cellular velocity that defied standard biological limitations.
My own innate survival mechanisms were fundamentally different… and far more predatory. I didn't possess a holy font of creation; my baseline recovery was anchored entirely to a volatile, dark Lifesteal effect. It was a kinetic, parasitic process. I couldn't simply manifest a new limb out of thin air to mend the scarred, empty stump of my severed left arm. My biology required me to actively tear into the flesh of my targets, violently ripping the vital essence out of their bodies to stitch my own minor wounds back together.
However, what I lacked in raw structural creation, I made up for in sheer, artificial amplification.
I looked down at my pale right hand, the metallic bands of my artifacts gleaming faintly in the twilight shadows of the cabin. Resting beside my Level 8 Mana Pool and Level 6 Magic Enhancement rings was my Level 5 Healing Ring. It was a masterpiece of precise, mechanical synthesis. To forge it, I had meticulously acquired and merged exactly five separate Level 1 healing rings, fusing their conceptual frameworks into a single, high-tier catalyst.
Because it was a Level 5 artifact, its synergistic interaction with my dark biology was monstrous. When active, it didn't grant me holy magic; instead, it acted as a massive, hyper-efficient multiplier, enhancing my lifesteal effect by up to 500%. If I drew blood on this frozen frontier, the feedback loop of absolute, predatory recovery would be instantaneous and overwhelming.
The freezing air inside the carriage grew sharper as we neared the high ridges of the northern pass. Around me, the elite Luminous Knights were finalizing their preparations with practiced, military precision. They pulled heavy, insulated winter cloaks over their polished white-and-scarlet plate armor, the fabric snapping tightly into place. One of the high-ranking vanguards sitting across from me quietly channeled a localized spell, his gauntlets erupting into a controlled, low-burning flame magic that cast a flickering, orange glow across the dark wooden benches. It was a tactical heat source, keeping their fingers nimble before the deployment.
I sat enveloped in the shadows of the furthest corner, my right hand firmly holding down the collar of my crimson trench coat. Beneath the thick, fire-resistant layers, I kept the empty, mutilated stump of my left arm completely anchored to my side, ensuring not a single contour of the missing limb showed through the fabric.
Behind the absolute psychic barrier of my Leech's Hollow Mask, a cold, calculating alarm kept my focus razor-sharp. I could never let Elicia get a close look at my physical trauma. If she were to invoke her Divine Regeneration on me, her hyper-accelerated cellular magic wouldn't just knit minor flesh wounds… it would completely regrow the right eye that had been violently gouged out of my skull months ago.
And that was a catastrophic, absolute no-no.
If my right eye regenerated, it would immediately manifest the unmistakable, genetic signature of my birth bloodline: the haunting, visceral heterochromia. My right eye would burn a vibrant, deep crimson, contrasting sharply against the single jade-green eye currently looking out through the mask. The moment Elicia saw that specific, bi-colored gaze, the illusion would completely shatter. She would instantly recognize her "Little Ren," realize I was alive, and the entire fragile, hidden framework of my existence would be exposed to the highest administrative eyes of the Bureau. I would rather rely on my 500% amplified, dark parasitic lifesteal to keep myself standing than risk her holy light exposing my identity.
I kept my head low, my single green eye tracking the heavy breath misting from the knights around me. This single transport was a concentrated nest of raw tactical power. The vanguards flanking me were no ordinary grunts; they were legendary names occupying the 10th to 30th places on the global Luminous Knight leaderboard. Their weapons hummed with a dense, volatile aura of S-rank mana, ready to be unleashed upon the permafrost.
SCREECH…
Suddenly, the heavy iron-reinforced wheels of the sixth carriage locked violently against the frozen earth.
The vehicle ground to a sudden, jarring halt, the immense kinetic force causing the wooden chassis to groan under the stress. The low crackle of the vanguard's fire magic snapped out instantly as the knights instinctively braced themselves, their hands dropping onto their greatsword hilts in a synchronized, lethal reflex. Outside, the howling whistle of the northern blizzard was abruptly cut through by a distant, echoing rumble that made the very permafrost beneath our carriage vibrate.
We had arrived, but something on the border was already waiting for us.
Through the frost-rimed glass of the sixth carriage window, the twilight casting deep blue shadows over the permafrost, I squinted my single jade-green eye. Positioned all the way at the rear of the convoy, my line of sight was severely obstructed by the five massive, iron-reinforced carriages ahead, but the sudden, absolute halt of the horses spoke volumes.
Out on the narrow, snow-choked mountain path, a lone, slender silhouette stood perfectly motionless against the howling blizzard. A thick, tattered travel cloak enveloped her figure, completely obscuring her features as she blocked the only advance route into the northern border.
Inside our cabin, the abrupt deceleration caused the elite vanguards to shift. One of the high-ranking knights… occupying a spot in the top twenty of the leaderboard… loosened his grip on his flaming gauntlet and muttered irritably,
"Oi... why did we stop? Are the lead scouts experiencing a breakdown in this frost?"
The answer came with a sudden, devastating clarity.
A hundred yards ahead, the cloaked girl slowly raised her head. With a single, violent motion, she ripped the tattered fabric away, throwing it into the biting mountain wind.
FWOOSH.
Two massive, terrifying angelic wings erupted from her shoulder blades, their feathers a pitch-black, void-like shade that seemed to actively absorb the fading twilight. A suffocating, monumental aura of dark celestial mana instantly slammed across the entire mountain pass, heavy enough to make the reinforced timber of our carriage creak and groan. The horses at the front let out panicked, blood-curdling shrills, their hooves thrashing wildly against the ice.
She slowly raised a massive, glowing broadsword toward the sky, the edge of the blade crackling with an unstable, apocalyptic energy.
It was the fallen angel.