Chapter 47: Snow Gaurdian Spirit [3]
"Eliminating intruders."
An ice spear—longer than I was tall—whistled through the air like death itself.
I twisted just in time.
"Shit—!"
A cold sting grazed my back as the spear slammed into the wall behind me with a thunderous crack. Frost exploded outward, coating the stone in a pristine layer of white.
I glanced back.
’That was way too close. I aged ten years just now.’
The spear had buried itself into the wall like a stake through the heart. If I’d been even a second slower, I’d be part of the décor.
Fitting, I supposed. A spirit designed to protect priceless artifacts wouldn’t use magic that risked damaging them. Instead, it targeted people precisely—and without hesitation.
"To dodge that..." the voice echoed through the vault, calm and curious. "You’re no ordinary thief."
I exhaled slowly and turned to face her.
"And you’re no ordinary spirit."
She hovered a few feet above the ground, her form solidifying more by the second. Pale skin like snow. Icy blue eyes that glowed with ethereal light. Hair that flowed behind her like a winter storm given shape.
There was a calmness in her posture. Regal, almost. But the icicle spear in her hand said everything I needed to know—one wrong move and I was a corpse.
"You’re self-aware," I said. "That means you’re not some low-tier magical defense. You’re a mid-level spirit at least..."
My eyes scanned the runes floating around her, the cold mist leaking from the orb behind her. The magic density in this room was insane.
"...No. You’re high-level."
She nodded once, expression unreadable.
"Well observed. I was once a spirit of the Northern Peaks—bound to blizzards, solitude, and silence. The Count offered me a pact. In exchange for freedom from the storms, I became the guardian of his bloodline’s legacy."
"And how’s that working out for you?" I asked, stepping slowly to the side, careful not to look like I was preparing an attack.
Her head tilted slightly. "Peaceful. Until now."
"Right. Because I’m here." I gave a half-smile. "Well, in my defense, I did knock first."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You do not carry the Valstein blood. You are an intruder. My duty is clear."
She raised the spear again.
"I get it, I get it," I said quickly, hands up. "But maybe... hear me out."
Silence.
"I didn’t come here to break anything. Didn’t come here to steal everything. Just one item. The Enhancement Orb."
She didn’t react. Not visibly.
"It’s critical. Lives are on the line. Not that you’d care, probably, but I figured I should try the ’words first, stab later’ approach."
A long pause.
Her voice came softer this time, like fresh snowfall.
"I was not built for negotiation."
"Well, neither was I," I muttered. "But here we are."
She floated forward. Every step, every movement—so graceful it made the hair on my arms stand up. Not just because of the cold.
She wasn’t slowing down.
’Alright. Plan B it is.’
I just hope that this would work or otherwise I have to fight her.
I slowly raised both hands, not in surrender, but to show I wasn’t reaching for a weapon.
"Listen," I began. "I don’t want to fight. I just need the orb. I’ll be gone the moment I get it. No relics, no alarms, no damage to the vault."
She didn’t move.
"I care not for your intent," she said icily. "Only your blood. And it is not Valstein ."
"Tch..."
No negotiating then. This wasn’t a test of words—it was a trial of blood.
The Snow Spirit moved first.
She vanished in a swirl of frost, reappearing right in front of me, spear thrusting straight for my chest.
I twisted, just barely avoiding the strike, and retaliated with a shadowstep behind her. My dagger grazed her shoulder—not enough to harm, but it disrupted her form, the mist flickering.
She spun gracefully, like a blizzard coiling on instinct, and sent a pulse of ice magic in a wide arc. It crashed against the shelves and artifacts—but none of them budged.
The vault’s enchantments held strong. Only I was vulnerable.
Another spear. I ducked and slid, grabbing a fistful of frost from the floor and tossing it to obscure her vision.
It didn’t work.
She moved through it like wind.
But I noticed something.
Each time she attacked, the air pulsed slightly, a flicker of binding magic holding her back—not from killing me outright, but from leaving the room or casting beyond its bounds.
’So the spirit is tethered.’
A limitation.
I could use that.
"Valstein blood, huh?" I muttered under my breath, reaching into my coat.
I pulled out the medallion.
It wouldn’t trick her directly—but the Valstein crest was more than a symbol. It was enchanted. It carried legacy magic. Authority. Echoes of blood.
The Snow Spirit paused mid-strike as I held it up between us.
"That seal belongs to the master," she said, eyes narrowing.
"It does," I said, voice low and steady. "And by his hand, I was given leave to retrieve the orb."
She wavered, uncertain. I saw it in the way her form flickered ever so slightly.
Not convinced... but no longer fully aggressive either.
There was silence until she opened her mouth again and said, "I don’t care. Only Valstein blood is allowed here. And you are not with that bloodline."
I grit my teeth.
’Plan B fails too.’
Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.
Even with the medallion glowing faintly in my palm—resonating with the vault’s enchantments, pulsing with that old ancestral magic—it wasn’t enough. Not for her.
"I figured," I said quietly. "But you hesitated. That means part of you recognizes it. That legacy magic—whatever pact the Count made—it binds you, doesn’t it?"
Her gaze hardened. The icy mist swirling around her intensified.
"Speak carefully," she warned. "You are not immune to the cold."
"No, I am not. Since it’s come to this. I’m going to take that orb and get the hell away from here, You Damn Spirit."
An ice spear metralize into air and she grasp by her hand.
"Give it your best shot human. In the end you will die."
...And just like that an unavoidable battel began with guardian spirit.