KamiKowa: That Time I Got Transmigrated With A Broken Goddess-Chapter 122: [] Blood in the Snow

Morning came with a fresh blanket of snow and darkening skies that promised more. Xavier tightened the cinch on Smoke’s saddle, patting the gray gelding’s neck as the animal snorted clouds of vapor into the frigid air.

"Storm’s coming," Dalen announced, moving between the wagons. "We push through to the next waypoint. No stops unless absolutely necessary."

Xavier glanced toward the northern pass, where clouds hung low and heavy against jagged peaks.

Leading Ember by the reins, Naomi approached. The cold had painted her cheeks pink, her breath visible in short, irritated puffs.

"Efler wants us to ride in her wagon today," Xavier said, keeping his tone neutral. "With the weather turning, it makes sense."

"I’d rather ride." Naomi adjusted her fur-lined hood. "Horses can navigate snow better than wagons if things get bad."

"That’s not what the caravan master says."

"And he knows everything?" She tugged at her gloves. "Besides, her wagon’s too small for three people and supplies."

Xavier studied her face. "This isn’t about space."

"You really think I’m that complicated?" Naomi swung up into her saddle. "Sometimes a preference is just a preference."

Dalen sounded the horn—three short blasts signaling immediate departure. The caravan began moving, wheels crunching through the unbroken snow.

Xavier mounted Smoke, guiding him into position behind the red wagon. Naomi fell in beside him.

"You don’t trust her," Xavier said quietly.

"Should I? We barely know these people."

"We barely know anyone here."

"Exactly my point." Naomi adjusted her reins. "So excuse me if I’m not eager to trap myself in a small space with someone who makes my skin crawl."

Xavier raised an eyebrow. "Makes your skin crawl? That’s specific."

"Something about her eyes." Naomi shook her head. "She watches us like she knows things. Important things she’s not sharing."

"That’s because she does."

Naomi shot him a sharp look. "What aren’t you telling me?"

Xavier hesitated. His suspicion about Efler being Ashley was just that—a suspicion. Without confirmation, sharing it might only complicate matters. "Just an impression. Nothing concrete."

"Right." Naomi’s mouth thinned into a line.

The caravan wound its way into the foothills, following a path barely visible beneath the fresh snow. Wind picked up as they climbed, driving icy particles against exposed skin. Xavier pulled his scarf higher, covering his nose and mouth.

By midday, the snowfall had intensified. Visibility dropped to less than twenty yards, the world beyond transformed into a swirling white void. Travelers hunched in their saddles or huddled beneath wagon covers, fighting the relentless cold.

"We should have taken her offer," Xavier said as Naomi rode close beside him, both of them leaning forward against the wind.

"I-I’m fine."

"You’re freezing."

"S-so are you."

"I’m not too proud to admit it." Xavier nodded toward the red wagon ahead. "There’s no shame in seeking shelter."

"It’s not a-about pride." Naomi’s eyes narrowed against the snow. "It’s about—" She stopped abruptly, pointing to something half-buried in the snow beside the path. "What’s that?"

Xavier followed her gaze. At first it looked like another snow-covered rock—until he saw the curved edge of a wagon wheel, shattered and half-buried.

"Could be old," he said.

They passed it, continuing through the blinding snow. The caravan moved slower now, horses struggling through drifts that reached their knees. Xavier’s headache intensified with each mile, the pressure building behind his eyes until he saw spots dancing in his vision.

"There’s more," Naomi said suddenly.

To their right, partially covered by fresh snow, lay scattered debris—splintered wood, torn canvas, metal fittings twisted beyond recognition. The remains of a wagon, torn apart by something with tremendous force.

Xavier exchanged a glance with Naomi. Without speaking, they both moved closer to the red wagon ahead.

"Dalen," Xavier called out, urging Smoke forward until he reached the lead wagon. "There’s wreckage back there."

The caravan master squinted through the snow. "Recent?"

"Hard to tell with the snowfall. But there’s more than one wagon."

"Keep your eyes sharp. Could be avalanche debris."

But Xavier had seen enough destruction in his former life to recognize the difference between natural disaster and deliberate attack.

As they continued, more evidence appeared—shredded fabric caught on broken branches, personal belongings scattered across the path. He didn’t need to look closer. He’d seen enough blood-soaked snow in another life.

The caravan guards grew tense, hands resting on weapons as they scanned the white void surrounding them. Travelers whispered among themselves, fear spreading from wagon to wagon.

"We’re in trouble," Naomi murmured, moving Ember alongside Smoke. "Whatever did this could still be out there."

"Almost certainly is." Xavier kept his voice low. "No predator abandons hunting grounds this rich."

A sharp whistle cut through the howling wind—Dalen’s signal to close ranks. The wagons drew together, guards positioning themselves around the perimeter.

Efler pulled her wagon alongside Xavier and Naomi.

"Get in. Now."

This time, Naomi didn’t argue. They dismounted quickly, tying their horses to the back of the wagon before climbing inside. The interior was cramped but warm, packed with supplies and furs.

"What happened here?" Xavier asked as Efler secured the canvas flap behind them.

"Thornbeasts." She spat the word like a curse. "Pack hunters. They ambush caravans in snowstorms when visibility is poor."

"What are they?" Naomi huddled deeper into her cloak.

"Quadrupeds covered in icicle spines." Efler checked a crossbow before setting it within reach. "They fire their spines like projectiles. Their blood and spines are toxic."

Xavier absorbed this information, mentally calculating their odds against creatures that could destroy entire wagons. "How do we fight them?"

"We don’t." Efler’s voice was hard. "Not in open snow. Our only chance is reaching the next waypoint before they decide to attack."

The wagon hit something, jolting them sideways. Outside, voices shouted in alarm.

Xavier pushed aside the canvas flap. The caravan had stopped. Ahead, partially buried in snow, lay the remains of multiple wagons—not just broken, but impaled. Massive icicle spines jutted from splintered wood and frozen canvas. What might have been bodies lay half-buried in the drifts, unrecognizable beneath their shroud of white.

"Oh god," Naomi whispered, peering over his shoulder.

Dalen moved between the wagons, gesturing urgently. "Clear it! Move these wrecks off the path!"

Guards dismounted, working quickly to drag debris aside. Every face showed the same grim understanding—they were clearing the remains of the previous caravan to attempt passing through the same deadly territory.

Xavier scanned the surrounding slopes. The snow limited visibility, but he could make out dark shapes among the trees—boulders, perhaps, or fallen logs. Or something else entirely, watching and waiting.