The ice sculptures gleamed in the biting wind. The soldiers frozen inside had twisted, agonized faces, as if still telling the story of their pain before being trapped in ice.

Matthias stared at them, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he suppressed the tremor in his chest. He rubbed his arm, which was still stiff where the white mist had touched him. The skin there showed a faint purple discoloration, and the cold seemed to have seeped deep into his bones.

"Your Highness, the freezing breath from that spiritual stag is incredibly lethal," Neville said, leaning on his sword.

The wound on his lone arm split open again due to the cold. Blood seeped through the bandages and left bright red spots on the snow. He looked in the direction where the spiritual stag had disappeared, and his eyes were filled with apprehension.

"We should focus on defending our camp and stop provoking the creatures on this island," he said.

Matthias nodded in silence. The loss of several of his elite soldiers f