Once Pudge had recovered, he recentered himself and began his exploration of the castle. As he progressed throughout, he discovered that most of it was completely uninhabited. Though it could easily accommodate a thousand people – or more – it was almost entirely empty.

Or most of it was. There was a portion of the castle devoted to housing the goblins, and those areas had a distinctly different flavor. Not only were they missing the artful tapestries and ice sculptures that decorated the rest of the castle, but they were decidedly dirtier. Pudge’s suspicions about the goblins proved mostly true; they were a primitive people who regarded hygiene as little more than a suggestion. Even as a dire bear, Pudge wouldn’t have lived in such a state as what he’d found in the parts of the castle inhabited by the goblins.

They slept dozens to a room, all piled atop one another and radiating a deep sense of horrible cold. Pudge didn’t get close enough to really feel it, but he suspected that doing so would return him to a similar state as he’d experienced when he’d killed that first goblin. He had no desire to reexperience that, so other than getting close enough to catalogue the situation, he kept his distance.

Which wasn’t the easiest thing to do, considering that those areas were absolutely infested with the dirty, little creatures. The situation was further complicated by the fact that they were on their guard due to his previous encounter. Fortunately, Pudge had spent enough time recovering that their level of watchfulness had begun to dissipate, giving him some leeway. Even so, he still had to maintain a high degree of focus lest he be once again discovered.

After a couple of hours spent carefully creeping through the castle corridors, Pudge found his way to an opulent chamber he immediately labeled the throne room. Part of that assertion was due to the artful relief sculptures carved into the walls – more snowflake patterns, Pudge noted – but the majority of his perception came from the regal elf sitting on a dainty throne at one end of the room.

Like the goblins, her skin was tinged blue, but where they were ugly little creatures, the elven woman sitting the throne was the personification of beauty. Her white hair glistened with icy jewels, and her dark blue gown bore the same snowflake motif Pudge had seen throughout the castle. Beside her was a wizened old goblin with a bent backed, a wispy beard that scraped the ground, and an icy headdress that was clearly too heavy for him.

“Find it!” screeched the elf, slapping her hand on the arm of the throne. “I don’t care how you do it, Gaki. Just do it! I won’t stand for intruders in my castle!”

“Yes, mistress,” the goblin rasped.

“That’s all you ever say!” she continued to scream. “Ugh. ‘Yes, mistress’ this and ‘Yes, mistress’ that. I need you to stop telling me you’ll do what I want and actually start doing it, Gaki! Otherwise…”

Pudge thought he could hear the old goblin swallow nervously, even from his position more than forty yards away. Or maybe he was just imagining it.

For his part, Gaki just nodded and repeated the same phrase he’d uttered only a moment before, which brought another tirade from the elven woman. Eventually, he started backing away, still muttering, “Yes, mistress” after every one of her demands. Even then, she didn’t take the hint and kept on screeching the same redundant orders. It wasn’t until he left the throne room entirely that the elven woman slumped into her throne like she’d just run a dozen miles uphill. Then, she started mumbling about finding better minions.

By that point, Pudge felt that he had seen what he needed to see. The elf was strong. He could tell that just by looking at her, and she radiated the same biting cold characteristic of the blue goblins. But if he wanted to get more specific than that, he’d have to get a lot closer, which he had no intention of doing.

So, having exhausted the possibilities of remaining in the throne room any longer, Pudge retreated to the cellar where he’d spent his convalescence. There, he started planning the remainder of his scouting mission.

For now, he needed to wait for the goblins to return to normal. That could take days, but judging by how quickly they had already begun to revert to the same pattern of behavior he’d seen before alerting them to his presence, he expected it would take far less time than that. Once the alarm died down, Pudge would be far freer to explore.

In the end, it took a little more than a day for the goblins to relax. In that time, Pudge catalogued his discoveries and drew a rudimentary map on an animal skin he’d gotten from the kobold rangers. It wasn’t to scale, but he felt certain that he got the basics right. Only when he’d finished did he realize that the entire castle was laid out like one of the snowflake patterns he’d seen decorating the walls and tapestries.

Was it merely an aesthetic choice? Or did it mean something? Sasha would have known, but Pudge was at a loss for answers. So, he chose not to speculate. Instead, he focused on his scouting mission.

Once the goblins went back to normal – who knew what they thought had killed their fellow? – Pudge commenced with further exploration. However, he didn’t immediately find anything of note. Instead, it was just one empty room after another. It was as if the castle had been built to house an entire population, but for some reason, it had been abandoned.

It was on Pudge’s third day in the castle when he made a discovery that would change everything. Following the pattern of his map, he’d begun to wonder what, if anything, lay at the center of the snowflake. His intuition suggested it was important, but he couldn’t figure out why he thought that. So, as much to satisfy his own curiosity as to complete his scouting expedition, Pudge decided to check it out.

The only problem was that the only way to reach the center was by going through the throne room and passing in close proximity to the elf of indeterminate power. Pudge didn’t know how powerful she really was, so he was more than a little nervous about the prospect. However, when he finally worked up the nerve to do what he needed to do, he was relieved to discover that the elf was no longer present within the throne room.

Still, he traversed the length of the chamber as quickly as possible before finding his way to a hall that ended in a spiraling staircase that led upward. Pudge mounted the steps, careful to keep his footfalls as silent as he could manage. As he climbed, he was surprised to discover that the staircase didn’t just lead to the next level. Instead, with each step, Pudge became further convinced that it would only end at the top of the castle’s tallest spire.

Throughout the climb, Pudge found himself growing more lethargic with every step. At first, he didn’t even notice it, but after a while, he recognized the danger of the cold seeping into his bones for what it was. It was subtly different from what he’d felt from the goblins; instead of simple numbness, it sapped his strength to the point where even climbing the steps had grown difficult.

Still, Pudge pushed on, partly because he refused to give in, but mostly because his mind had grown sluggish as well. When he finally reached the top, he was barely on his feet, and so far from the ground, [Cambion’s Awakening] did little to counteract his condition.

The spiraling staircase ended suddenly, and even in his exhausted state, Pudge found himself beset by a sensation of awe that suffused his entire being. The floor was covered in intricately patterned tiles that pulsed with glowing, blue energy. There were no walls, either. Instead, the conical roof was held aloft by columns that looked like nothing so much as cylindrical blizzards. Pudge suspected that if he were to touch any of them, he would lose his hand before a second had passed.

But even as impressive as those columns – or the view of the tundra below – was, Pudge only had eyes for the thing resting at on a dais at the center of the tower. It looked like a snowflake made of the clearest, purest ice, but with a cloud of blue mist swirling around it. Pudge could barely look at it without collapsing, much less even consider approaching it.

“My, my – you made it all the way up here,” came a sneering voice. That’s when Pudge noticed the elven woman standing beside the snowflake. She ran a finger along its crystalline surface as she said, “Surprisingly durable. Color me surprised.”

And then a blizzard manifested around her, and in an instant, it enveloped the entire floor. Pudge tried to dive back down the stairs, but his body was slow in responding, so the swirling mass of cold and ice swallowed him before he could take a single step. The moment it did, Pudge felt his heart stop and his blood freeze in his veins. Collapsing, he tried to gasp for breath, but in the middle of that blizzard, he couldn’t will his body to obey his commands. He fell to the floor.

The elf continued to speak, though he couldn’t hear her for the howling wind. Nor could he have made sense of any of it, even if he could’ve heard. His brain had frozen just like the rest of his body, so thinking had become an insurmountable burden.

Just before Pudge blacked out – which would undoubtedly spell his doom – his survival instinct kicked in. If he’d have been capable of rational thought, he probably would have summoned [Hellfire], but in his unthinking state, he reached much deeper than a mere skill, grasping ahold of something that, since his birth, had been the foundation of his very being. He embraced the path of ferocity.

Pudge’s Will dragged some primal part of his soul into the light, and with a ferocious roar, he pushed the cold back. More, he sprang to his feet, flecks of spittle flying from his mouth alongside a challenging roar. At the same time, the civilized part of Pudge’s mind retreated, replaced with an animalistic rage that pushed sapience away.

The elf said something, but Pudge was in no state to listen. Nor could he force himself to activate any skills. Instead, he bounded forward, cutting a path through the blizzard in a quest to rip the elven woman to pieces. Belatedly, she realized that her skill was no longer working, and she tried to summon a wall of ice to bar his way. Pudge crashed through it before it could completely manifest.

Then, he got his claws into her.

At first, the result was predictable. Blue-tinged skin, darker blue blood, and similarly colored blood went flying as his claws bit deep into her body. She screamed in agony – or was that laughter – as Pudge lost all grip on his rational mind.

That was his undoing.

Or perhaps he was doomed from the start.

An icy stalagmite thrust upward from the ground. Even with his heightened state, Pudge only partially managed to dodge. Instead, as he dodged to his right, the jagged shard of ice ripped through his thigh. He ignored the pain – that was easy – but when, a second later, his leg went entirely numb, he tumbled to the floor. More sharp stalagmites thrust themselves from the ground, and despite his efforts to avoid them, Pudge soon found himself with a half dozen gaping wounds.

More, as the cold mounted, he began to lose his grip on his Will. With every passing second, the ferocious beast retreated. If it was just pain, Pudge could have kept going, but he simply couldn’t stand up to the pervasive numbness.

The elf sauntered forward, her wounds frosting over until she looked no worse for wear. Her gown had been ripped to tatters, but the only evidence of her injuries were a few patches of ice.

She looked down on him with disdain, sneering, “You beast. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to replace even one part of my wardrobe out here? Oh, I know what you’re thinking. ‘Kalina, you have a whole tribe of frost goblins at your beck and call. Surely one of them can use a needle and thread.’ Well, you’d be wrong to think that! Even the smartest of them are little more than slavering monsters. The last time I tried to get them to do anything but hunt or clean, I ended up with a bed of smelly furs! And the worst part is that they seemed so pleased with themselves! Ugh.”

Pudge didn’t respond, and not just because, with the cold returning, he was incapable of moving. Instead, what little remained of his ability to think was absolutely perplexed by the elven woman’s demeanor.

She conjured a shard of ice in the form of a dagger, with which she gave a few practice thrusts into the air before saying, “So barbaric. Oh well. [Freezing Aura] doesn’t seem capable of putting you down, so I suppose I must make do with other tools. If it makes you feel any better, know that your death will be useful. I do so love bearskin rugs.”

Then, she thrust the icy dagger forward, intending to slit Pudge’s throat.

He had other ideas, though. Even as she bestowed a villainous monologue upon him, Pudge had been gathering mana and forcing it into the runes for [Hellfire]. And as she committed to her attack, so too did Pudge commit to his own. An eruption of corrosive fire burst forth from his hand, hitting her directly in the face.

Fire and ice have never mixed well, but when demonic corruption was added to the mixture, ice certainly came out on the short end of the stick. As the elven woman’s face was bathed in hellfire, she let out a panicked screech. Her dagger strike went side, barely knicking Pudge’s collarbone, before she stumbled backward.

At that moment, the skill she’d been using – [Freezing Aura], apparently – dissipated, and Pudge found himself able to move. That dense ball of [Hellfire] had contained every ounce of mana he could spare, so drained as he was, he had no intention of continuing the fight. Even as the powerful elven woman screamed in pain, the air began to once again freeze over. She might’ve been hurt, but Pudge had already sensed her strength. There was no way his skill would do her in. In fact, even if he threw everything else he had at her, she would almost certainly survive.

So, Pudge did the only thing that made sense.

He ran, practically tumbling down the spiraling stairs as he aimed to escape the icy elf’s clutches.