Card Apprentice Daily Log

Chapter 2981: The Great Frosling Migration – I

Date: Unspecified

Time: Unspecified

Location: Myriad Realms, Dark Realm, Gelid Alps, Snow Elven Region, Frosell District, Frosnow City

The Frosell District was one of the harshest, most barren lands in the entire Snow Elven Region. The terrain here was completely unforgiving—frozen, jagged, and entirely unfit for the cultivation of spiritual crops or any meaningful resources.

Because of this, despite its dangerously close proximity to the Elven Capital, the land had sat entirely unoccupied and unused for several millennia. It was a dead zone, ignored by the elven nobility as nothing more than a scenic wasteland.

That was until the Snow Elves bought out nearly the entire population of Froslings across the Dark Realm and forcibly relocated them here. In a twisted mockery of the slaves’ heritage, the elven lords labeled the wasteland after the Froslings’ fallen home, officially dubbing it the Frosell District.

To the Snow Elves, it was the perfect open-air prison: a brutal, frozen ghetto where a subjugated race could be tightly monitored, packed together right under the Capital’s military nose, and worked to the bone without taking up valuable real estate.

Even so, the Frosell District was massive, spanning thirty-seven cities. Thirty-six of those cities belonged to the thirty-six distinct Frosling tribes, while the final city was Frosnow—the grand center, administrative heart, and economic trade hub of the entire district. The tribal cities were governed by their respective tribal heads, while Frosnow itself was ruled directly by the Chieftain.

This layout was far from a natural distribution chosen by the Froslings. It was a calculated, insidious conspiracy engineered by the Snow Elves.

By dividing the district into thirty-seven distinct zones, the elven lords had deliberately assigned the absolute harshest, most barren frontier terrains to the strongest, most militant Frosling tribes. Meanwhile, they gifted the slightly more habitable, core terrains to the weakest, most passive tribes, and handed the centralized trade hub to the Chieftain.

The strategy was textbook divide-and-conquer: spark systemic envy, fuel bitter territorial disputes, and force the Froslings to constantly fight among themselves for basic survival resources. The elven high command believed that if the tribes were perpetually cutting each other’s throats for a slightly warmer patch of frozen dirt, they would never be cohesive or unified enough to launch a rebellion against their elven masters.

However, the Snow Elves had fundamentally underestimated the unbreakable will of the Frosling race.

These people had survived the apocalyptic ordeal of watching their entire home world get shattered into cosmic dust. They had endured being trafficked across the Dark Realm as cheap, counterfeit Snow Elven slaves. They had spent decades being dragged into hidden laboratories, subjected to horrific, agonizing experiments as the devils tried to forcibly extract and splice their celestial Blessing of Frosell. They had watched their closest friends, brothers, and children succumb to those failed experiments, their bodies coldly disposed of like garbage when the research led to dead ends.

And just when they thought they had finally found an ally in this cold, harsh world, their Snow Elven allies had unmasked themselves as oppressive, sadistic rulers who treated them worse than wild beasts.

The trauma hadn’t broken them. It had forged them into iron. Instead of tearing each other apart for the crumbs the Snow Elves threw at them, the thirty-six tribes had quietly swallowed their pride, hidden their fangs, and waited for a single, defining spark to unite them.

And now that the opportunity they had grown tired of waiting for and had actively set out to search for had finally presented itself, they weren’t about to let it slip away. They grasped it with everything they had, willingly offering up eternal servitude to a master who actually gave them power, all for a shot at a better future and regaining their dignity.

I looked at the Chieftain and said, “I am not one for grand speeches, so I will spare you one.”

Then glancing at the six dozen Frosling Bloodkins, I continued, “As my heralds, they already know what must be done and possess the means to accomplish it. Your duty is to assist them and cooperate fully. As for the Snow Elves, leave them to my people.”

The Hive spirit had already updated the Frosling Bloodkins about my plans and their specific roles in them. Thanks to the shared consciousness of our calamity soul and daughter gems, there was no need for spoken explanations or clunky briefings. The tactical blueprints and the security protocols had been uploaded directly into their minds.

The Chieftain and the tribal heads acknowledged my command with solemn nods, their gazes briefly lingering on Sansa and Karl, who had perfectly assumed Frosling forms through the Myriad Devil Transformation Hex. To the untrained eye—and even to the advanced detection arrays of the Snow Elves—they were nothing more than ordinary, albeit slightly imposing, Frosling guards.

With a thought, I tapped into my soul space and summoned three hundred and sixty Primordial Ethereal Spirit Clones. I disguised them all in Frosling forms using the myriad devil transformation hex. They materialized one after another out of the swirling frost, silently filling the chamber until every single corner of the high-ceilinged room was occupied by a dense, unblinking army of unknown Froslings.

The tribal heads swallowed hard. Three hundred and sixty unknown Frosling with ruler class baleful energy signature appearing instantly without a single fluctuation of spatial energy was a terrifying testament to my capabilities. The Frosling Elders checked if these three hundred and sixty were also disguised as Froslings, but they couldn’t tell while some confidently felt they were Frosling. Considering my ambitions in the Winter Valley they wouldn’t be surprised if I had a small army of powerful Froslings. Ten of these three hundred and sixty clones were to assist each of the Frosling Bloodkins with

“Everyone except Moon Fright, leave this chamber and begin your assignments,” I ordered, my voice cutting through the heavy silence. “I will be using it for the duration of my stay.”

Without another word, the Frosling leadership, the newly minted Frosling Bloodkins, and my silent army of spirit clones filed out of the room in disciplined, eerie silence. They moved with the terrifying coordination of a single organism, leaving only Moon Fright and me behind in the massive, blood-stained hall.

I leaned back into the heavy stone chair, looking over at the young Frosling woman who had set this entire chain of events into motion.

“Moon Fright, you have served with distinction. I am very pleased,” I said softly, the dark crimson glow of my eyes settling on her.