Outside the settlement walls, the storm raged endlessly.
Snow crashed against metal buildings while freezing wind screamed through the narrow streets between structures buried beneath layers of ice.
Yet even in that endless cold— people still argued.
Still hoped.
Still feared.
Near the center of the settlement, a religious preacher stood knee-deep in snow, shouting toward a gathering crowd.
His face was red from the freezing air, and frost clung to his beard while he raised both hands toward the gray sky above.
“This world has been poisoned by sin!” His voice echoed through the storm.
“The ice is punishment!” Several people stopped walking to listen.
Others simply watched in silence while trying to stay warm beneath layers of worn clothing.
The preacher pointed upward again.
“And the more corrupt humanity becomes—” his voice cracked with intensity, “—the colder this world will grow!” A woman standing near the front clutched her child tightly against her chest.
Tears filled her eyes.
“Then what do we do?” she cried.
The preacher immediately answered.
“Repent!” He stepped forward through the snow.
“Pray!” His breathing shook violently from the cold.
“Abandon your sins before the world freezes completely!” A young man deeper in the crowd suddenly shouted back, “And where is the food?!” Several people turned toward him immediately.
The young man spread his arms angrily.
“Will prayer feed us?” The preacher glared at him.
“Faith feeds the soul.” The young man laughed bitterly.
“My soul isn’t starving.
My stomach is.” A few people nearby laughed quietly.
Others looked offended.
An older woman snapped angrily, “Show respect!” The young man shook his head.
“Respect won’t stop children from freezing to death.” The preacher stepped closer through the snow.
“You mock faith because you’re afraid.” The young man stared back coldly.
“No.” He pointed toward the storm outside the settlement walls.
“I’m tired.” Silence followed for several seconds.
Only the sound of the blizzard remained.
Then slowly— the crowd began dispersing again.
Not because anyone had won the argument.
But because nobody truly had answers.
— Elsewhere in the settlement, inside a crowded housing complex filled with noise and weak alcohol fumes, several men sat around a damaged metal table.
One of them slammed his cup down loudly.
“I saw it myself!” The others immediately groaned.
“Here we go again.” The man ignored them completely.
“It was huge!” He spread his arms dramatically.
“A giant monster!” The bald man beside him laughed.
“And how drunk were you exactly?” The first man hit the table hard enough to shake the cups.
“I’m serious!” His eyes widened.
“Its body was releasing snow!” The room quieted slightly after that.
Not fully.
But enough.
A bald older man sitting in the corner slowly looked up from his drink.
“…I’ve heard stories like that before.” The others turned toward him.
The younger man frowned.
“What stories?” The bald man shrugged slowly.
“They say there are people who can’t die.” A teenager sitting nearby looked nervous immediately.
“Monsters?” The bald man leaned back in his chair.
“Or miracles.” Nobody laughed that time.
The storm outside howled loudly against the building walls.
The first man lowered his voice.
“What if the Eyes of Ice are real?” One man immediately scoffed.
“And what if ghosts are real too?” Another muttered quietly, “At this point, I wouldn’t even be surprised anymore.” — Deep below the settlement, inside one of the underground tunnels, two exhausted workers sat against a frozen wall after hours of labor.
One stared tiredly toward the ceiling pipes above them.
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
“Sometimes I think…” His voice sounded empty.
“…maybe the world should just end already.” The second worker looked toward him quietly.
The first continued.
“We aren’t living.” He rubbed his freezing hands slowly.
“We’re only trying not to die.” The second man stayed silent for several moments before answering softly, “Maybe that’s what living became.” Neither spoke again after that.
— Far above them, inside a tiny room overlooking the storm, a little girl stood beside a small frost-covered window.
She stared out at the endless white world beyond the glass.
Then quietly— she asked, “Mom…” Her mother looked up from folding blankets.
“Yes?” The little girl pressed her hand gently against the cold window.
“…Are flowers real?” The mother froze briefly.
Just for a moment.
Then she walked slowly toward her daughter and wrapped her arms around her gently.
“Yes.” The little girl looked upward.
“Then why can’t we see them?” The mother closed her eyes briefly before answering.
“Because of the snow.” The child whispered softly, “I want to see them someday.” The mother held her tighter.
Then, with a broken voice barely above a whisper— “…Me too.” And in that frozen world— humanity survived not through truth… but through stories.
Rumors.
Faith.
Fear.
And fragile hope hiding desperately beneath endless snow.
No one truly understood the frozen age.
No one knew what had caused it.
And somewhere far beyond the storm— the truth continued sleeping beneath the ice.
— End of Volume One: Ice Age —