Chapter 75: The Last Peaceful Breath (4)
Melvin sat cross‑legged atop the peak beside one of the many small ponds scattered across Dreamer’s Peak.
The water was perfectly still, so clear it reflected the soft glow of the seven suns above like a flawless mirror.
The air was quiet, warm, and strangely comforting — yet none of it eased the heaviness pressing down on his young chest.
In his small hands, he clutched the Dreamer’s Mask tightly.
His fingers traced its smooth, cold surface again and again, as if hoping the artifact itself would whisper an answer he desperately needed.
"Is... all this really worth it?" he muttered, pale eyes swirling with uncertainty.
"If I stay here, getting stronger... will there even be enough time to save my kingdom? That prince is probably already tearing everything apart."
His voice cracked slightly. He bit his lip, wrestling with the storm of emotions that had haunted him for the past year — ever since Akasha had taken him in.
"Why is Lord Dream... going through all this trouble?"
His grip tightened on the mask.
"Why give me these valuable gifts and train me... when he could just save my kingdom and be done with it?"
In the realm of Pantheos, children could never truly be seen as ordinary treated in the usual way.
Across the entirety of this verse, the very notion of mortality was nonexistent.
From the moment of their birth, they were gifted not only with power but with the intellect bestowed by their Stars.
So, while some might appear naive in their behavior, it was, more often than not, nothing more than a carefully crafted act.
So, Melvin, he understood that beings of immense power often acted on whims.
When Akasha had come across him by chance and, on a whim, stepped in to save him.
It was the sort of impulsive act that could have been nothing more than a passing moment. It could have ended right then and there.
And... honestly, it probably should have.
Which made it even harder to understand why Lord Dream refused to take the simple route — why he insisted on empowering Melvin instead of rescuing the kingdom outright.
The confusion coiled inside him, tight and suffocating, like a knot he couldn’t begin to untangle.
A low, casual chuckle drifted from behind him.
"Stop getting lost in thought so much, Melvin."
Melvin jolted, turning quickly. Akasha stood there with his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, expression knowing — as if he had seen every thought swirling inside Melvin’s head.
"It’s time to train."
Before Melvin could respond, the world around them shifted.
In a single blink, Akasha pulled them both into Dream Land — specifically the second‑tier land, a vast, pristine white expanse sealed off from the rest of the realm.
The ground beneath Melvin’s feet felt strangely solid yet soft, like condensed clouds. The air carried a faint, nostalgic scent that made his chest tighten with something he couldn’t name.
Melvin looked around with wide eyes, his small frame tense.
"Where... are we? It feels so different here."
Akasha stood beside him, voice calm and steady.
"This is a private training realm. You’re not here physically — only consciously."
Thanks to his physique, Akasha could now fully step into Dream Land with his real body, something that perhaps no one else could achieve—not even Luna.
Only Yume and Akasha were capable of appearing in this place physically, yet it didn’t really make a difference, as anyone entering would experience the same effects regardless.
HUMMMM!!!
With a single thought from Akasha, the white expanse began to shift.
The ground cracked, splitting apart in jagged lines.
Frost surged upward, swallowing the pristine white and replacing it with a frozen abyss.
Snow swirled in the air, icy winds howled across the landscape, and jagged ice formations rose like crystalline mountains stretching endlessly into the distance.
At the sight... Melvin shivered, not from the chill in the air, but from sheer awe.
Akasha spoke on, his voice steady and filled with quiet assurance.
"I’m certain you’ve noticed it by now. When you finish your last three tasks, you’ll experience an evolution—gaining a Star far greater than the one you have now."
He stepped forward, the ice crunching beneath his feet.
"And by the time that happens... you will be the most formidable swordsman the world of Kalpa has ever seen."
Melvin gazed out over the frozen expanse, his pale eyes gradually sharpening with determination.
The heaviness in his chest lingered, yet something within him shifted — a flicker of light, a sense of where to go, a reason to move forward.
For the first time since stepping foot on Dreamer’s Peak, the tightness coiled inside him began to ease.
He realized he wasn’t merely undergoing training.
He was being readied for something greater.
-----
Akasha closed his eyes for a moment, letting the frozen landscape breathe around them.
He drifted into a dream, and in that quiet, he started creating what Melvin would need.
Because even though he called it "training" in reality, Akasha was just handing Melvin the tools — and then tossing him straight into a pit of hell.
[You have created new artifacts.]
[Eternal Blade of Frost (God Rank) (Tier 14)- A sleek, elegant sword forged from condensed eternal winter essence.
The sword is perfectly attuned to Melvin’s winter nature, allowing him to channel and amplify his frost and winter abilities through every swing.
It grows stronger the colder the environment or the more intense his emotions become.]
[Battle Art of Winter’s Edge (God) (Tier 14) - A complete swordsmanship style that fuses graceful, flowing movements with the ruthless power of winter.
It emphasizes precision strikes, misdirection through frost illusions, and overwhelming area control using blizzards and freezing domains.
The style allows the user to combine frost and winter abilities seamlessly with the sword, turning every cut into a conceptual harvest of momentum and life itself.]
----
Akasha opened his eyes again, the artifacts floating before him and the frozen realm pulsed once in acknowledgment, as if the land itself understood the significance of what was about to begin.
Melvin stared at the items, his breath shallow, his eyes wide, his frame tense with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
Akasha’s voice cut through the cold, calm and absolute, carrying the weight of truth without softening it.
"Your first six tasks that Number One guided you through... they were easy," he said, his tone steady and his gaze unwavering.
"Only warmups before your real change begins. These next three will be a step between life and death—a step you should never expect to be rescued from."
Melvin felt the words settle into him like falling snow, quiet but heavy, and before he could respond,
Akasha extended his hand, placing the sword and tome before him, and then—he vanished.
Not truly, but from Melvin’s perception entirely, disappearing like a breath of winter wind, leaving the frozen world suddenly larger, colder, and infinitely more silent.
Melvin stared at the place where Akasha had stood, the silence stretching around him in a long, unbroken moment, and for a heartbeat the old Melvin—the anxious one, the overthinking one—tried to rise, tried to question, tried to panic.
He remembered Akasha’s words, spoken with quiet certainty.
"I must use these things... to my advantage," he thought, slowly exhaling, letting the cold sink into him, letting the stillness seep deep into his bones.
HUMMMM!!!!
He reached out and touched the tome, and it opened on its own, flooding his mind with knowledge that poured into him seamlessly, without resistance, without pain, without confusion.
Sword forms, footwork, stillness, silence, frost, winter—everything flowed into him like a river of cold light, reshaping his instincts and sharpening his resolve.
He picked up the sword, and the moment his fingers closed around the hilt, his aura erupted in a surge of True God power that cracked the ice beneath him and sent a shockwave rippling through the frozen realm.
And in that moment... the first trial began.
A figure stepped out of the blizzard ahead, tall and regal, draped in frost‑woven robes that shimmered with ancient power.
His eyes were cold white and his presence merciless.
Seeing him Melvin froze, not from fear but from recognition, because he knew that face, he knew that aura...
It was him—Melvin, the God of Harsh Winters—the destiny he had been born with, the future he was meant to inherit, the version of himself that the verse of Pantheos expected him to become.
A status appeared before him, glowing in pale blue frost, its message simple and absolute.
[Sever your old destiny. Let Eternal Winters take root.]
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