Icy needles stung Shunjiro’s cheeks the instant the portal ejected him. Wind howled across a white-bleached wasteland; flurries whipped sideways, turning the sky and ground into one swirling blur. Cold bit straight through his clothes and stole his breath. This… definitely isn’t the Shadow Realm, he thought, hugging his arms for warmth. A few paces away Jayiden materialised, boots crunching into hard-packed snow. The swordsman’s brows pinched, eyes flicking over the desolate expanse of jagged ice ridges and distant, purple-tinged mountains. “That bastard Tsubasa…” Jayiden muttered, voice frosted with irritation. “We’re on the Cosmic Continent, not the Abyss stronghold.” Shunjiro blinked, teeth chattering. “Cosmic Continent? But that’s across the world from the Light Continent! How am I supposed to get home?” Jayiden sheathed his katana with a click. “Find your own way. Tsubasa’s panic-warp dumped us off-course. His problem, not mine.” Shunjiro stepped forward, snow crunching beneath his sandals. “Hold on! You were trying to kill me five minutes ago, now you’re just… leaving?” A thin smile tugged at Jayiden’s lips. “Consider yourself spared, courtesy of your friend King Malachi. Tsubasa got rattled, botched the coordinates. I’ve no orders to finish you here, and I don’t fight pointless battles.” He tugged his cloak tighter, dark fabric snapping in the gale. “Word of advice, Shunjiro: roads are scarce out here. Head west until the snow thins, then you will have to venture through the Shadow Realm then you should be back in the light continent.” Shunjiro opened his mouth, questions tumbling over each other, but Jayiden was already turning away. He strode into the white curtain, footprints vanishing as wind filled them in. “Wait, Jayiden!” Shunjiro called. The swordsman paused just long enough to glance over his shoulder. “Grow stronger. Next time we meet, excuses won’t save you.” With that, he disappeared into the blizzard, cloak swallowed by drifting snow. Shunjiro exhaled, breath crystallising in the frigid air. Alone, in a frozen frontier he’d only heard about in tavern tales. He squared his shoulders, sand swirling faintly at his feet despite the cold. “Just straight west,” he repeated, eyes lifting to the sky. “Alright, guess I’m taking the long way home.” He tightened his cloak, turned into the wind, and began trudging through the knee-deep snow, each step crunching with a resolve as sharp as the chill biting his skin. Hours after Jayiden vanished into the whiteout, Shunjiro pressed on through the blizzard, head ducked, cloak stiff with ice. At last dark shapes broke the endless wall of snow: ramparts, towers, and a gatehouse so tall it vanished into the swirling sky. A city… maybe the capital, he thought, relief flooding his aching limbs. Someone here has to know a way back home. But as he slogged toward the gate, lantern-light revealed motion on the parapet. Four cloaked guards emerged, long spears leveled through the murk. “Ho there!” the lead guard barked, voice muffled by a woolen scarf. “Identify yourself and state your business.” Shivering, Shunjiro raised his hand. “N-name’s Shunjiro,” he stammered, teeth chattering. “Got turned around in the storm, just need shelter and directions.” Cold eyes swept over his travel-stained coat… then fixed on the dagger at his belt. “Weapon on the ground,” the guard ordered. Snow creaked under heavy boots as the squad closed in. “Slowly.” Shunjiro’s fingers hovered at the hilt. “Oh, this?” He forced a shaky grin. “Just a good-luck charm. Doesn’t even look that scary, right?” “Charm or no,” the guard said, drawing his sword with an icy rasp, “hand it over.” With a resigned sigh, Shunjiro set Devil’s Luck in the snow. The nearest guard scooped it up, eyeing the dark blade before slipping it inside his cloak. Irons clicked around Shunjiro’s wrists a moment later. “Protocol,” the leader said to Shunjiro’s bewildered look. “You’ll be questioned later.” They hustled him beneath the looming archway and into Frostholm’s inner wards. Though the high walls blunted the wind, cold still gnawed at every joint. Through narrow streets they marched, lanterns casting yellow halos on frost-slick cobbles. A stairway spiraled down to the undercroft, rank with damp and iron. A barred door screeched open. Shunjiro was guided inside a small cell: straw pallet, bucket, and a squat iron furnace glowing a faint ember red. The cuffs were removed, the gate clanged shut, and the guard’s footsteps faded. Shunjiro rubbed his sore wrists, then hurried to the furnace, rubbing numb hands before its grate. “Cosmic Continent hospitality, five stars,” he muttered, half-laughing, half-groaning. He paced once, twice, then slumped to the pallet, exhaustion finally overtaking adrenaline. Above the arrow-slit window, snow hissed against stone, and a distant horn sounded the night watch. All right, he told himself, letting the furnace’s warmth seep into his bones. Step one: survive the night. Step two: convince whoever’s in charge I’m not a threat. Step three: find a route back to Radiance… without anymore surprise portals. He managed a tired smile, closed his eyes, and listened to the quiet hum of the embers. The torch-lit corridor outside the dungeon echoed with boot-steps and clinking mail as the gate-guard hurried upstairs, Shunjiro’s dark-bladed dagger wrapped in a strip of cloth. He pushed through a pair of oak doors into the keep’s strategy chamber, where frost-rimmed maps of the Cosmic Continent lined the walls. At the head of a long table stood the commander of the knights. Her silver hair was braided tight, her posture as rigid as the steel saber at her hip. Piercing blue eyes lifted from a ledger the instant the guard entered. “Report,” she said, voice crisp. “Captain Amaya, we confiscated this from a lone traveler at the south gate.” He offered the cloth bundle with both hands. Amaya unwrapped the blade. A faint, oily shimmer ran along its edge, as though it drank the lantern-light. Her expression tightened. “Unusual workmanship… and a curse-mark I don’t recognize.” A deep baritone answered from the doorway. “May I?” The guard snapped to attention as a man strode in, nearly seven feet, broad-shouldered beneath a fur-lined cloak the color of midnight ice. Despite the hour, the man’s presence filled the chamber like rolling thunder. Amaya bowed, presenting the dagger. “Your Majesty, I assumed you would wish to examine it personally.” The King turned the weapon in his massive hand, testing the balance. The metal seemed to absorb the fire-glow, leaving the runes along the fuller dull and black. A slow, thoughtful smile curved the king’s lips. “Interesting charm for a boy to carry in a blizzard,” he murmured. Then, to the guard: “The prisoner, where is he being held?” “First cell under the south tower, Sire.” The King returned the blade to its cloth, handing it back to Amaya. “Come, Captain. Let us meet our guest. Something tells me this ‘lost traveler’ is more than chance would claim.” Amaya nodded once, sharp and sure. “At once, Your Majesty.” She sheathed her saber and fell in beside him, boots ringing on the stone as they headed for the stairwell that plunged toward the dungeons, and toward Shunjiro, still warming his hands by the meager furnace, unaware that the king was already on his way. The rasp of iron keys came first, then the thud of boots on stone. Shunjiro straightened as the cell door swung open. Captain Amaya stepped aside to admit a broad-shouldered man in a dark, fur-lined mantle. The torchlight caught silver thread at his collar and a gilt circlet at his brow, small, but unmistakably royal. Two mailed guards bracketed him, yet it was the newcomer’s presence that filled the cramped cell. He turned the sheathed dagger in one gloved hand. “This is an unusual trinket for a snow-soaked wanderer,” he rumbled, blue eyes studying Shunjiro as though weighing coin. “Where does a boy get a blade laced with Devil’s Luck, and why was he half-frozen at my gate?” Shunjiro managed a crooked smile. “Long story, Your, uh… Majesty. Got it from a friend, a really tall swordsman back in the Shadow Realm. And I didn’t mean to sight-see the Cosmic Continent. One wrong portal, here I am.” Amaya’s brow ticked upward; the King merely hummed. “Shadow Realm travel is hardly a wrong turn.” He glanced at the hilt, the runes swallowing torch-glow. “Your friend must trust you, or enjoy risking lives. Devil’s Luck bends fate in ugly ways.” “Yeah, my luck’s been… experimental,” Shunjiro said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I just need somewhere warm and maybe directions. My friends are probably worried sick.” “Friends?” the monarch asked. “Where?” “Light Continent. Kingdom of Radiance,” Shunjiro answered. “I got separated during a fight with a guy named Tsubasa, opens portals like doorways.” Recognition flickered in the King’s eyes. “Tsubasa,” he echoed, voice cooling. “You cross interesting paths, traveler.” Shunjiro cleared his throat. “Speaking of paths… where am I exactly?” “You stand beneath Stellar Keep, capital of the Stellar Empire, Western Cosmic Continent,” the King replied. “Few outsiders reach us by accident, fewer still with cursed steel in hand.” Shunjiro blinked. “Stellar Empire… that’s pretty far from home.” “Farther than you realize if the storm returns,” Amaya added. The King considered him a moment longer, then nodded to the guards. “Unshackle him. The blizzard would kill him faster than any cell. He will remain under watch, but he’ll have a hearth tonight.” Shunjiro exhaled in relief as the manacles fell away. “Thank you! Seriously, I owe you one. And hey, if you ever need someone to bring a little sand to this snowy city, just let me know!” The man smiled faintly, shaking his head as he turned to leave. “We’ll see. For now, get some rest.” Later, in the guest chamber, firelight bathed wooden beams and thick woollen rugs. Shunjiro sank into furs, breath finally thawing. He twirled the returned dagger, recalling the King’s warning. Stellar Empire… Cosmic Continent… He pictured Itsuki’s smile, Yoshinori’s dry lectures, Aiko’s teasing, Ryuji’s boasts, and Tetsuo’s booming laugh. Hang on, guys. I’ll figure out a way back, stronger than before. For now the flames crackled, snow hissed against shuttered windows, and the Devil’s Luck blade glimmered darkly across his palm-waiting.