This relic was indeed made based on the combat cloak, but it was as if someone had taken the base product and put it on steroids.

  Normally, when snipers used combat cloaks, they had to leave a few gaps for visibility and to stick their weapons through. But this relic was entirely different. It didn’t need any openings at all. We could see the outside world perfectly, even with the cloak draping over us.

  As a craftsman, I couldn’t help but be curious — what kind of Runes or advanced techniques were used to create something like this?

  The cloak didn’t just conceal us visually. It masked our scent and silenced our movements as well. We were utterly invisible, but we could still see, hear, and smell everything around us.

  At first, I thought this world’s rules of magic — only enhancing or conjuring — would limit what made magic so… magical. But this cloak proved me wrong. It was a perfect example of how enhancing magic could achieve wonders when pushed to its limits. If this was actually this world's magic limit. I sure hoped not. The more I thought about it, the more I felt a burning desire to take this cloak apart and study it.

  Using the cloak, we moved unhindered through the icy earth, despite being surrounded on all sides. It felt like we were reenacting a scene from that one movie with the wizard boy and his lightning-bolt scar, sneaking around under his invisibility cloak. Our situation was quite different though.

  In the movie, the boy snuck into a restricted library section at night, with no one around. Here, we were sneaking through a massive frozen tsunami, walking through a jagged tunnel while Abyss Crawlers flooded both sides.

  “Stay close,” Ragnar reminded us as we huddled beneath the cloak, its fabric stretched precariously to fit the three of us.

  “How did you even manage to fit three grow men under this?” I inquired. “Isn't it a bit too cramped for that?”

  It wasn’t just cramped. The cloak, designed purely for stealth, wasn’t made to accommodate multiple people. We had to move synchronously, every step coordinated to prevent the fabric from being pulled in different directions.

  And to make matters worse, we were doing this for the first time so it was clunky at best, while being surrounded by a sea of Fiend Forgers and Abyss Crawlers.

  “Sorry, let me move a bit further away.” Elfina softly said, her warm breath brushing against my back. That single spot began to sweat instantly.

  I turned to look at her, baffled. How in the world had my matter-of-fact observation about the cloak being cramped turned into telling her to move away? What kind of logic was that?

  “Don't look at me like that, please.” She turned her head to the side, cheeks heating up as she clutched the golden tree branch.

  That branch was more than a random piece of their World Tree. It was the key to our mission.

  Thnari had given it to the first expedition leader as part of their deal. It was used to locate traces of the Isolation World Tree’s Guardian. The closer we got, the more leaves it sprouted. A simple yet useful tool. It reminded me of my own minimap — basic but indispensable.

  “Not much we can do about it,” Ragnar cut in. “Usually one of the three members is a Dwarf, so we managed by taking turns carrying each other. Most of the time though, it's the Dwarf that carried the other two. Anyway, let’s move quickly.”

  “Understood.” We nodded and marched on.

  With such an overpowered relic, sneaking through the horde of Abyss Crawlers and slipping to the other side of the barrier was almost too easy.

  But nothing could’ve prepared me for what awaited beyond.

  I stepped out and froze — not from the cold, but from the sheer beauty of the scene before me.

  Twin moons hung in the sky, their silver light cascading over a river coated by a paper-thin layer of ice. Beneath the fragile surface, fish darted energetically, their movements creating bubbles that floated up and stuck to the icy surface.

  Above, an aurora stretched like a silk scarf of rainbow hues. Its gentle dance across the night sky was framed by constellations that blinked in waves like a group of supportive audiences. The black void above felt alive, not empty, as if it were watching us in quiet indifference.

  The ground, however, was a stark contrast. Snow blanketed everything. But it wasn’t just white. Crimson and black streaks painted the landscape, mingling in an unnatural yet oddly harmonious blend. Together, they made the vibrant aurora above seem even more radiant, as though the light was defying the corruption below.

  Mountains stretched endlessly beyond the horizon, chaining together like an impenetrable fortress. Six of them loomed in my view, their peaks already swallowed by the clouds. I could only imagine how much taller they reached beyond that veil.

  I stood there, mesmerized. For a moment, I let myself forget about the dangers, the quest, and the countless obstacles in my way.

  This place was simply breathtaking.

  “That’s our goal,” Ragnar said, pointing at a lone mountain that stood apart from the giants around it. Compared to its neighbors, it seemed almost lackluster. There was something different about it.

  “There’s no snow on it,” I pointed out.

  At my words, Elfina poked her head out from behind me, her gaze locking onto the peculiar mountain.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Ragnar urged, his voice firm. “We can’t stay here for long.”

  He was right. Abyss Crawlers were still nearby, and the more we lingered, the more likely we got exposed.

  “When the Guardian slumbers, his will becomes the shield that stops all evil,” Elfina mumbled under her breath. She sounded distant.

  I glanced at her, intrigued. “Is that part of your legends?”

  “Yes," she nodded. "It’s a bedtime story parents tell their children. They say we Frost Elves don’t have a Guardian for our World Tree because ours is still fighting, still protecting us from the evil born during The Great War, even now.”

  “That’s... interesting,” I said, my mind already coming up with some hypotheses. “Do you know how the story began?”

  Elfina shook her head. “No. It’s been passed down for generations. I always thought it was just a comforting tale — until the great tree told me the same thing.”

  I was about to press her for more details when Ragnar’s sharp voice cut through the moment.

  “Blizzard ahead. Brace yourselves!”

  The sky, which had been clear just moments ago, darkened with alarming speed. Fierce winds roared around us, and snow whipped through the air like tiny daggers.

  We scrambled to hold down the relic cloak, gripping its edges tightly to keep it from being torn away. The fabric strained against the storm’s fury, and for a moment, it felt like it might rip apart entirely.

  With the Abyss Crawlers still close, losing the cloak here would mean certain death. The storm wasn't just a test of endurance — it was a battle for survival.

  The freezing wind gnawed at our already-numb fingers, each gust threatening to rip the cloak from our grip. The fabric flapped wildly, joining the deafening howl of the storm, drowning out every other sound. Even the crunch of snow beneath our boots was swallowed by the blizzard’s relentless roar.

  “Keep moving. We’re almost to the scouting camp.” Ragnar’s firm and unwavering voice cut through all the howls as he led the way.

  Through the swirling snow, shadowy shapes moved — empty, milky-white, vortex-like eyes drifting like phantom lanterns, eerily silent as they dragged themselves toward the tunnel we had just arrived from.

  A sharp reminder. We didn’t have the luxury of time. The barrier had to be fixed, fast. Aria and Hilda could hold their ground in a siege — they had the experience of their nation's endless war behind them — but the Frost Elves back at the village wouldn’t last long under such relentless pressure.

  “We’re here.” Ragnar’s shout carried over the gale. “One last push. Move!”

  Step by arduous step, we trudged through the snow until the outline of a stone shack emerged from the white abyss. A humble structure, but right now it was our only shelter. Ragnar rushed out from the cloak and slammed the wooden door open.

  We quickly dashed inside and closed the door, shutting out the storm and the Abyss Crawlers.

  The air inside was noticeably warmer, thanks to Conservation Runes etched into the walls. The faint hum of stored heat seeped into the room, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. Yet, it wasn’t enough. Ragnar and I immediately got to work as we carved Heat Runes into the stone walls, letting more warmth fill the space.

  “Good. We made it in time before the blizzard worsened,” Ragnar said, unrolling a map onto the small wooden table.

  “It can get worse?” I glanced toward the window, but all I could see was a featureless wall of white as snowflakes shot past like tiny, icy bullets.

  “This is quite mild,” Elfina said matter-of-factly.

  “You’ve been to this side of the barrier before?” I asked curiously.

  “Yes,” Elfina said with a soft nod. “When I was young, my mother used to bring me here. We’d watch the sunrise together before heading back.” Her voice softened, and a gentle expression crossed her face.

  “That sounds… nice.” I smiled. Seeing her like this, it was clear those moments were among her most cherished memories.

  I turned to Ragnar. “So, what’s the plan now, professor?”

  “We rest and wait for the blizzard to pass,” he said, already poring over his map. “If it doesn’t clear, we’ll wait until it weakens before continuing. Rest while you can. I’ll work on mapping a route first.”

  “Can I help?” Elfina offered, stepping closer.

  “Of course,” Ragnar said with a nod, gesturing for her to join him.

  It was best to let the professionals do what they do best.

  As the two of them began planning our path, I sat on the floor in a corner and turned my focus inward.

  The Demonic Qi still bloated my body like I’d eaten a feast far beyond my fill. Power surged through me, but it was pushing my physical limits, threatening to tear me apart from within. It was nothing short of a miracle that I hadn’t already burst like an overfilled balloon. And I had no desire to experience that again.

  Closing my eyes, I began directing the excess Qi toward my Qi Core to refine it.

  *Ding

  [Your Qi Core has been refined for the first time. You can now use your Qi more efficiently.]

  After about ten minutes, I opened my eyes, feeling the difference. Putting it in terms of level, my Qi Core had leveled up from one to two — a small but significant step toward the maximum level of nine. My body felt lighter, and the flow of Qi was more manageable.

  With this newfound efficiency, an idea came to mind.

  I released a thin layer of Qi from my body, letting it hover around me like an invisible shell. Carefully, I began stirring it, creating a faint vortex with myself as its center. The Qi moved smoothly, responding to my control with newfound precision.

  Even better, the efficiency gains were noticeable. What used to feel like pouring out a bucket’s worth of Qi now only costs four-fifths of that. It might seem small, but in the long run, that difference could mean everything.

  Satisfied with the results, I let the Qi back into my core and opened my eyes.

  After stabilizing the swirling Qi around me, I condensed a small amount into my palm, scattering the rest into the air.

  *Ding

  [Four Directional Protector Arts Level Up: Level 3 → Level 4]

  A smile crept onto my face. With this, all four basic techniques of my martial arts were now stable and usable. There was no longer a risk of Qi deviation, and I wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally blowing myself up again —something I definitely didn’t want to repeat.

  It was funny, though. The last time I’d blown myself up was when I tried to perfect this very technique.

  That thought reminded me. My [Full Body Restoration] was going to end soon. Once it ended, my wounds wouldn’t heal instantly, and my Qi usage would become dangerously inefficient. I needed to address the leakage issue before it became life-threatening.

  For now, though, I’d take this small victory.

  My thoughts were interrupted by Elfina’s raised voice.

  “I’m telling you, professor, it’s a risk we need to take,” she argued. Her tone was firm, almost desperate. “We can’t spend days here taking the long route. Supplies will run out, and the longer we delay, the more lives are put at risk!”

  Curious, I stood and approached the two of them.

  “And as I keep telling you, priestess,” Ragnar sighed. “I’m the leader of this expedition. My job is to keep us safe and bring us back alive. That’s what your father entrusted me to do too.”

  “What’s the problem with the route?” I asked, glancing between them.

  Elfina crossed her arms, frustration was evident on her face. Ragnar, on the other hand, sighed again before gesturing at the map.

  “This priestess wants to take the shortest route,” Ragnar said, pointing at a specific path on the map. “But that would mean going through here.”

  My eyes followed his finger to a cluster of red and black dots scattered along the marked path.

  “Isn’t that…” My voice trailed off as the realization hit me. I turned to Elfina, who looked back at me with unwavering determination.

  “That’s right,” Ragnar said grimly, confirming my suspicions. “It’s the Fiend Forger’s lair.”