Death Guns In Another World

Chapter 2099: The Ice Empress’s Heart

The wind moved through Mariaʼs white hair like a loverʼs gentle touch. She stood on the highest balcony of the White Castle, looking out over a kingdom that stretched as far as her ice-blue eyes could see. Snow-covered peaks. Frozen lakes. Forests of pine weighed down by winterʼs heavy hand.

It was beautiful. Cold. Silent.

Just like her.

Months had passed since she woke in this place. Months since the world door had torn her from everything she knew and threw her into this frozen realm. She remembered waking in this very castle, confused and weak, her body broken from the journey. The Ice Empress (ruler of this realm) herself had found her, drawn by the impossible cold that radiated from Mariaʼs unconscious form.

Perfect affinity with ice. The Empress had called it a gift from the gods. A blessing.

Maria called it a cage.

She had been adopted into the royal family. Given a title. Given power. Given everything except the one thing she wanted.

Freedom to find him.

Her fingers tightened on the stone railing. The cold did not bother her. Nothing cold bothered her anymore. She was ice. She was winter. She was the frozen heart of this small but mighty kingdom that could rival any force in this realm.

But inside, beneath all that ice, something burned.

She missed him.

The thought came unbidden, as it always did. In the quiet moments. In the space between breaths. In the cold hours before dawn when she lay alone in her enormous bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering where he was. If he was safe. If he thought of her.

Alex.

His name was a prayer she whispered to the uncaring wind.

And she was not alone in her longing. Gracier was out there, adopted into the dragon realm, building an empire of fire while Maria built one of ice. Luna had become a saintess in the Holy Empire, her light drawing followers from across the land. They were out there, her sisters in love, all searching. All waiting.

All missing him.

Maria closed her eyes. The wind caressed her face, tugging gently at her white hair. When she opened them again, they were the same as always.

Cold. Distant. Unreadable.

But beneath them, the turmoil raged.

What if he doesnʼt come? What if he forgot us? What if he found someone else in that lower world? What if—

She stopped the thoughts before they could spiral. She was not a woman given to doubt. She was a warrior. A survivor. The Ice Princess of this frozen kingdom.

But even ice could crack under pressure.

She turned from the balcony and walked inside.

The training room was deep within the castle, far from prying eyes. It was a vast chamber of white stone, its walls enchanted to withstand the most powerful attacks. The floor was smooth ice, impossibly slick, impossibly perfect. Torches burned with blue flame, casting cold light across the empty space.

Maria stood at the center. She wore simple training clothes—white pants, a loose shirt, her feet bare on the ice. Her white hair was pulled back, away from her face.

She closed her eyes. Breathed.

Then she summoned her gift.

Two ice daggers materialized in her hands. They were beautiful things, formed of crystal so clear they seemed to be made of frozen light. The blades were long and curved, wicked sharp, and they sang with power. They had grown with her, changing as she changed, becoming extensions of her very soul.

She gripped them tightly. The cold felt like home.

”Highest difficulty,” she said, her voice flat and empty.

The room responded. Runes flared on the walls. The air shimmered. And from the ice beneath her feet, enemies began to rise.

Ice constructs. Warriors made of the same frozen magic that flowed through her veins. They were her opponents, her teachers, her executioners if she failed. The highest difficulty meant death if she made a single mistake.

There were twenty of them.

Maria moved.

Maria fought with blades.

The first construct fell before it could fully form. Her dagger pierced its chest, and it shattered into a thousand glittering pieces. She was already moving, spinning, her second dagger taking the head off another.

They came at her from all sides. Fast. Relentless. Perfect.

She met them with silence.

Her blades were extensions of her will. She did not think about the movements; her body knew them. Years of training. Years of battle. Years of fighting beside him had taught her to trust her instincts.

Him.

A construct lunged. She dodged, but slower than she should have. His face had flashed in her mind. For just a moment, her focus wavered.

A blade of ice sliced her arm.

Blood, red and warm, splattered on the white floor. Maria hissed and spun, her dagger taking the constructʼs legs. It fell, and she finished it with a thrust to its core.

She kept moving. Kept fighting. But the blood flowed freely down her arm, staining her sleeve.

Stupid, she told herself. Stupid to let him distract you. Stupid to let anyone distract you.

But he wasnʼt just anyone. He was everything.

She had been alone before him. Alone in her cold, in her silence, in her perfect control. He had broken through all of it. He had seen past the ice to the woman beneath. He had loved her. Not despite the cold, but because of it.

And now he was gone.

A construct swung at her head. She ducked, drove her dagger up through its chin, and kept moving.

Five down. Fifteen to go.

Her arm burned where she was cut. The blood was freezing, her own body trying to close the wound. Super regeneration. Another gift from another life. It would heal. It always healed.

But the wound in her chest? The one that ached every moment of every day?

That one never healed.

Ten minutes later, it was over.

Maria stood in the center of the training room, surrounded by the shattered remains of twenty constructs. Her chest heaved. Sweat matted her white hair to her forehead. Her arm was still bleeding, though slower now, the wound beginning to close.

She had won. She always won.

But victory felt empty.

She dismissed her daggers. They vanished into light, returning to wherever they waited when she did not need them. She walked to the edge of the room and sat on a low bench, her back against the cold wall.

For a long moment, she just breathed.

Then, alone in the silence, she let herself feel.

Her hand came up to her chest, pressing against her heart. It beat steadily beneath her palm. Strong. Alive.

But it hurt.

I miss you, she thought. The words were not spoken. They never were. But they screamed inside her head, loud enough to shake mountains.

I miss your voice. Your smile. The way you looked at me like I was the only woman in the world.

I miss falling asleep beside you. Waking up next to you. Fighting beside you.

I miss you.

A single tear traced down her cheek. It froze before it could fall, becoming a tiny crystal of ice that clung to her skin. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

She could not afford weakness. Not here. Not now. She was a princess of this frozen kingdom. She had duties. Responsibilities. An empire of ice to help build.

But she was also a woman in love. And love did not care about duty.

She thought of Gracier, somewhere in the dragon realm, surrounded by fire and ancient power. Her sister-in-arms, her sister-in-love. Gracier understood. She missed him too. Her dear brother, she must have.

She thought of Luna, the saintess, her light a beacon in the Holy Empire. Luna would be praying. Not to her new gods, but to the same hope they all shared. That he would come. That they would be together again. Maria missed her sisters, missed Sakuya, Eris and the others.

They were all searching. All waiting. All hoping.

Maria pushed herself to her feet. Her arm had stopped bleeding, the wound now just a pale scar that would fade by morning. She walked to the center of the room and summoned her daggers again.

Rest was for those who could afford it. She could not.

She had to be stronger. Faster. Better. Because when she finally found him, when they finally reunited, she would not be the same woman who left him. She would be more. Worthy of him. Worthy of the love he gave her.

The runes on the walls flared again.

”Highest difficulty,” she said.

The constructs began to rise.

And Maria fought on.