Descending from the mountain pass, the warm breeze Adam had invoked faded into the natural chill of the Northern Frost Domain. Before him lay a realm of stark, frozen beauty vast tundras of glittering ice, jagged glaciers that pierced the clouded sky, and distant pine forests shrouded in perpetual snowfall.
Unlike the untamed wilderness of the Emerald Maw, this region bore the heavy marks of civilization. Massive stone watchtowers lined the frozen mountain roads, their banners torn by the howling wind. Yet, despite the ironclad fortifications, a sense of desolation hung in the air. The snow was stained with the dark crimson of past skirmishes, and the roads were devoid of civilian travelers.
Adam walked along the hardened ice path, his footfalls leaving no prints upon the frost. The bitter cold, capable of freezing a mortal's blood in seconds, did not affect him. To a primordial entity who had witnessed the birth and death of cosmic suns, the absolute zero of the northern lands was merely a mild atmospheric variance.
As he reached a wide valley nestled between two towering glaciers, the heavy rhythm of marching boots echoed across the ice.
A vanguard force of iron-clad soldiers approached from the north. They wore thick, fur-lined armor bearing the emblem of a silver sword crossed over a frozen shield the banner of the Frostholm Empire. Marching in tight formation, their spears glinted in the pale sunlight, while heavily armored mages walked at the flanks, their hands crackling with elemental frost magic.
At the center of the column rode a tall commander atop a armored war-steed. His face was scarred, his beard flecked with ice, and his sharp, icy-blue eyes locked onto Adam the moment the lone figure stepped into the valley.
"Halt!" the commander bellowed, raising a gauntleted hand. The entire vanguard came to a dead stop in perfect, disciplined synchronization.
The commander rode forward, his steed's heavy hooves crushing the ice beneath. He drew a massive broadsword, pointing its tip toward Adam's chest. "Lurker! The mountain pass is a restricted military zone under the decree of Duke Ironwood. Identify yourself and state your business in the Frost Domain!"
Adam stopped, looking up at the commander with calm, unblinking eyes. He felt no anger at the man's hostility, only the familiar, endless pattern of mortals marking territory upon a world that did not belong to them.
"I am merely passing through," Adam replied softly, his voice carrying clearly over the howling wind. "I hold no allegiance to your Duke, nor do I seek conflict."
The commander sneered, his grip tightening on his hilt. "No one walks the Jagged Crest unescorted, especially not during the eve of the tribal siege. You wear no armor, carry no weapon, and bear no noble crest. You are either a spy for the frost-barbarians or a rogue cultivator."
"A spy?" Adam shook his head gently. "No. I am simply a traveler observing the world."
"Seize him!" the commander ordered, his voice echoing across the glacier. "If he resists, break his limbs. The interrogators at Fort Glacial will extract the truth!"
Four heavily armored vanguard soldiers stepped forward, their iron spears surging with cold mana as they lunged toward Adam's throat.