The Extra's Rise-Chapter 203: Northern Sea Ice Palace (4)

I let go of Seraphina, both of us gasping for breath.

The cold air bit at my skin, but it didn’t matter—my face felt hot.

Seraphina, too, seemed to realize exactly what position we’d ended up in. Her legs were still wrapped around my back, her body pressed close. A heartbeat later, she swiftly pulled away, and I gently set her back down on the snow-covered ground.

She looked at me, eyes unreadable.

"Arthur," she said, her voice softer than usual. "Thank you. For convincing me to come here. For showing me this."

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair in an attempt to ground myself. "Well, it’s not over yet," I said. "There’s still more to see."

Seraphina simply nodded. No teasing remark, no sharp retort—just quiet understanding.

We decided to set up camp right there, beneath the glowing iceflies.

Sleep should have come easily.

It didn’t.

I lay in my tent, staring at the ceiling, thoughts running in a thousand directions. I tried to focus, to plan, to strategize—but I couldn’t think.

Because every time I closed my eyes, I kept remembering Seraphina.

Her touch. Her warmth.

Her lips.

I’d always found her beautiful—ethereal, like something that belonged to the stars rather than this world. But now?

Now it was different.

Because I had kissed her. Twice.

Because I had held her in my arms.

And because, for the first time, I wasn’t just looking at Seraphina the prodigy, Seraphina the daughter of legends, or Seraphina the cold, untouchable swordswoman.

I was looking at Seraphina.

And she was cute.

I groaned, turning over in my bed, trying—and failing—to battle the insomnia creeping up on me.

I barely managed to drag myself up in the morning.

The bed, at least, was a masterpiece of modern engineering—compact but absurdly comfortable, lined with adaptive temperature regulation and weight-adjusting foam. I still had no idea how people in the past had survived with wooden beds.

I love the technology in this world.

Stepping outside, I scanned the area, my mana senses ready to locate Seraphina—

—and then a snowball hit the back of my head.

I blinked.

Given that it had no mana infused in it—and no hostile intent—I hadn’t instinctively dodged it. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t caught completely off guard.

"Snowballs? Really, Princess?" I asked, turning around.

Seraphina stood a few feet away, her arms crossed, a tiny, victorious smile tugging at her lips.

She was dressed in just a t-shirt and shorts—completely out of place against the backdrop of ice and snow. But then again, she was Seraphina Zenith. Half-elf, Ice Crystal Jade Body, immune to the cold.

She raised a hand. Ice mana flickered to life, effortlessly pulling together fresh snow, shaping it into a perfect sphere.

Then, with all the casual elegance of someone throwing a priceless artifact off a building—she hurled it at my face.

I dodged.

"You have been warned," I said.

She simply raised an eyebrow—and conjured another.

And just like that, it began.

A snowball fight where mana was only used for the slow generation of ammunition, but the battle itself?

That was pure skill.

And I won.

But not without a fight.

The moment I dodged the first snowball, Seraphina’s eyes sharpened, and I knew she had accepted the unspoken challenge. Without hesitation, she flicked her wrist, ice mana swirling as fresh snow gathered in her palm, packing into a perfectly formed sphere with almost surgical precision.

She threw it fast. Too fast.

I barely dodged in time, the snowball whizzing past my ear, kicking up frost as it smashed into a nearby tree.

’Alright, she’s taking this seriously.’

I scooped up snow with my bare hands, rolling it quickly—no fancy mana work, just good old-fashioned efficiency—and hurled it straight at her.

She leaned to the side, dodging it effortlessly.

Then she smirked.

And that was when I realized—

I was in trouble.

Seraphina moved fast. Too fast for someone whose fighting style usually leaned on precision rather than speed. But here? In the cold, in the snow, she was in her element. She weaved through the fight like a ghost through a blizzard, iceflies flickering in the background as if nature itself had chosen to decorate the battlefield.

She didn’t just throw snowballs.

She calculated.

She started curving them, arcing them high so that they came down like falling missiles, forcing me to dodge in unpredictable ways. She bounced them off trees, making them ricochet at impossible angles. And the worst part?

She wasn’t even using mana enhancement.

Which meant she was just naturally this good at aiming.

I wasn’t about to lose, though.

If Seraphina had accuracy, I had adaptability.

Instead of throwing blindly, I started predicting her movements. The way she dipped to avoid one shot, the way her body twisted before a throw—small tells, tiny patterns. I adjusted. I led my shots.

And I started landing hits.

The first one clipped her shoulder, sending a spray of snow across her side.

The second? Direct hit. Right in the stomach.

She gasped, momentarily thrown off balance, and I pressed the attack—two more rapid-fire shots, one grazing her leg, the other landing squarely on her torso.

She stumbled back, blinking in shock.

And then—

A sudden curveball caught me square in the face.

The cold bit at my skin, and I stumbled back, blinking away the shock and betrayal of that particularly vicious shot.

Silence.

Then Seraphina laughed.

A real, genuine laugh, light and clear in the frozen air. She looked at me, grinning, her golden eyes bright, her expression completely free of the weight she usually carried.

I wiped the snow off my face, sighing dramatically. "Alright. I’ll admit it. That was a good shot."

"Good?" She raised an eyebrow. "That was perfect."

I shook my head, rolling my shoulders. "Sure. But in the end?" I smirked, dusting the last of the snow off my jacket.

"I still won."

Seraphina, however, seemed to have developed an alternative interpretation of the outcome.

"Everyone won since we had fun," she said as we packed up the tents, storing them back in our spatial rings.

I smirked. "Don’t be a sore loser, Sera."

She narrowed her eyes at me, expression flat. "You’re awfully smug for someone who got hit in the face twice."

"Strategic sacrifices," I said, brushing a bit of lingering snow off my sleeve. "A small price to pay for victory."

Seraphina sighed, shaking her head. "Fine, champion of snowball warfare, where are we going now?"

"The center," I said.

Her expression shifted. Slightly. A flicker of something unreadable. "You mean… the main palace?"

I nodded.

"Yeah," I said. "There’s something important there."

She didn’t argue.

She didn’t need to.

Instead, we walked.

The ruins of the Northern Sea Ice Palace stretched before us, a stark contrast of untouched white snow and the wreckage of what had once been one of the strongest sects in the world.

But as we moved deeper into the island, something became increasingly clear—

The main palace hadn’t just fallen.

It had been annihilated.

At a distance, it still had shape. Still held the outline of what had once been a grand fortress of ice and magic, carved by elven hands and reinforced by the finest architects of the era. But up close?

It was wreckage.

Massive pillars, cracked and broken, their once-flawless carvings eroded by time and war.

The great entrance hall, where mages and warriors once gathered, was now nothing more than a skeletal structure—its towering ice walls fractured, its supporting beams snapped, its very foundation split like a wound in the earth.

The staircases, which had once spiraled up in elegant arcs, now hung precariously, some half-collapsed, others leading to nowhere but open sky.

The ceiling was gone. Completely. Only shattered remnants remained, jagged edges framing the cold sky above.

And at the very heart of the ruin—

The throne room.

Or what was left of it.

The seat of power, once belonging to the Palace Lord of the Northern Sea Ice Palace, was now nothing but a fractured platform, the throne itself toppled, cracked down the middle, its intricate elven craftsmanship almost unrecognizable beneath layers of ice and decay.

The sigils of the sect, once glowing with mana, were faded, their enchantments long since burned out.

Seraphina walked beside me in silence, her fingers grazing the frozen remains of a collapsed wall.

"...It’s worse than I thought," she muttered.

I didn’t say anything.

Because we hadn’t even reached the most important part yet.

"Can you sense it, Luna?"

"Yeah," she responded. "Let me guide you."

I nodded inwardly, letting my mana flow under her direction. There was something here—something beneath the ruin, buried under the weight of time and tragedy.

"Erebus," I murmured, activating Lucent Harmony.

A rift tore open in the air beside me, dark and seamless, as Erebus stepped through—his skeletal form emerging like a shadow given shape.

"Erebus," I said, keeping my voice even. "You’ll follow Seraphina’s orders. Use Bone Armour on her—help her."

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Erebus bowed. "Yes, Master."

Seraphina crossed her arms, watching as crimson bones shot toward her. They wrapped around her body like a second skin, forming a protective layer—not cumbersome, but reinforced, designed for resilience.

She tilted her head slightly, examining the armor with wary curiosity. "That serious?"

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"Well, yeah," I said.

And then, the world around us warped.

The air rippled, twisting at the edges of reality, as if we had stepped across an unseen threshold. The ruins blurred, the shattered palace flickering—one moment solid, the next shifting, like a mirage threatening to vanish.

Seraphina tensed.

I turned to her, smiling slightly. "How do you feel about a dungeon dive?"

Her usual composure broke.

Her ice blue eyes widened, her mouth opening slightly in shock.

Oh.

Right.

I probably should have explained that part first.