I Have Become The Snow Maiden I Created

Translator: Marctempest

Editor/Proofreader: TempWane

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Chapter 19: The Spiral of Fate (3)

He was a child.

The Crown Prince, Artan Fricas, was just a little boy at this point in time.

Something felt odd.

“Can a child even be the main character of the story…?”

Artan Fricas, who would—or rather, who was destined to—become incredibly renowned.

I had assumed he was one of the key supporting characters in The Four Seasons War II.

Was I mistaken?

“Or… is this the kind of story that builds up from the protagonist’s childhood?”

That was another possibility.

After all, I knew almost nothing about The Four Seasons War II*.

It didn’t make sense to exclude someone as significant as Artan.

Why else would they have built up so much backstory for him?

This made it all the more necessary for me to meet him.

I needed to confirm whether or not his character settings had changed.

Fortunately, there was an advantage.

In his adult years, Artan would be a fully formed individual, undoubtedly difficult to deal with.

However, as a child, he might be far easier to handle.

“Wait a minute, this might actually be…”

…an opportunity.

I remembered a key event from his youth that I had considered earlier.

Wasn’t there a moment where he ventured to some ruins alone and got into trouble?

And I thought I knew where those ruins were.

“This is it.”

I glanced over a publication on the ruins.

Ruins, by nature, are rare and mysterious structures.

Since they were all created in ancient times, no new ones ever appeared.

Any ruins worth noting had long since been discovered.

The only ones that hadn’t surfaced were either hidden in remote locations or required specific conditions to reveal themselves.

This new ruin must have been one of those cases.

Apparently, workers had accidentally triggered its dormant defenses, which caused the strange weather phenomenon.

How many rare incidents like that could even occur?

In a region like the Empire, where most areas had already been explored, a newly revealed ruin was almost unheard of—perhaps a once-in-several-centuries event.

That meant the ruin Artan had ventured to…

…must have been this one.

It had suddenly appeared, captured his interest, and was close enough to the capital for him to visit on his own.

The destination overlapped perfectly.

“This works out perfectly.”

There was no need for me to go out of my way to meet him.

If he came looking for the ruins himself, that would be ideal.

Moreover, we could speak privately without any interruptions.

And if I helped him out of the trouble he’d face there, I could earn his gratitude.

That would brighten the outlook for the future considerably.

He’d likely head there around this time.

Judging by how much attention the ruins had drawn, he might have already departed.

I couldn’t let that happen.

If I arrived too late, it would all be for nothing.

I hurried toward the destination.

*

Meanwhile, Anasha Sheryl, who had arrived in the Empire, was reaching out to her old connections for help.

“Ahem, that’s going to be difficult.”

“Please, don’t say that….”

“It’s not that I don’t want to help, but… I can see the desperation on your face. That’s an emotion I never saw from you, even when facing high-ranking monsters.”

Anasha managed to persuade a powerful figure she had once known to provide temporary accommodations for the refugees.

The Empire’s upper echelon would handle their treatment and resettlement.

Anasha, however, remained focused on subduing the Serpent God.

“If you want help, either hide that desperation or seek out someone who doesn’t know you.”

A renowned adventurer, with whom she had previously carried out several missions, shook his head in refusal.

Anasha lowered her gaze momentarily but quickly regained her determination and moved on to the next person.

This time, it was the leader of a prestigious mercenary group, with whom she had once served as a temporary member during a shortage of magic users.

“The Serpent God?”

“Yes. Because of it, the city is…”

“Enough. That’s all I needed to hear. Whether such a being even exists is questionable, but one thing is certain—I’m not getting involved.”

Anasha was a skilled combat mage.

Though she had been away from the Empire for a long time, she had been quite famous during her active years.

The people she sought out were far from ordinary.

Though they were skeptical about the existence of a being like the Serpent God, they were intrigued.

These were individuals who had faced countless life-or-death situations.

Fear did not come naturally to them; their curiosity and competitive spirit were often stronger.

But the fact that Anasha herself was asking for help…

That was the issue.

They knew her capabilities well.

A young mage whose skills rivaled their own, with the heart of a fearless warrior.

For her to plead so earnestly, what kind of monster could she possibly be facing?

For her to return to the homeland she had left behind, combing through old and tenuous relationships…

Their instincts, honed through countless brushes with death, sounded alarms.

They enjoyed the thrill of adventure and challenge but were not so reckless as to charge headlong into danger.

“Turn back.”

Once again rejected, Anasha stood dazed for a moment before knocking on another door.

Each time she met someone from her past, she spoke with sincerity.

She truly wanted to defeat the Serpent God.

The city she had loved—a second home—had been devastated.

Her sociable nature meant she had connections with many people.

Because of one Serpent God, those people were now steeped in misery, and some had crossed the point of no return.

There was no longer any retreat.

This nightmare could only end by sending the wicked god back to the earth.

“Why…”

Yet every plea for help was met with refusal.

What was wrong with her expression?

Was she really in such a strange state?

Though she knew the chances were slim, she hadn’t expected outright rejection from everyone.

Why had these once-brave warriors turned her down…?

She can defeat it.

Suddenly, the image of the Snow Maiden came to mind.

After that day, the scenes lingering in my mind like echoes remained vivid.

The claim that the Serpent God could be defeated… was it true?

Details about gods could be found in numerous ancient texts, beings that stood above all life.

What qualifications were needed to become a god remained unknown.

But the Serpent God was undoubtedly a monster deserving to be called an aberration.

Could it truly be defeated? Whenever I wondered, that landscape resurfaced as if in recollection.

A blizzard raged, and strands of silvery blue hair fluttered in the wind.

In the heart of that bitter cold, she quietly looked up at the sky.

She was cold and beautiful.

Was she truly human?

If she could kill a god, she would no longer be human.

Killing a god…

“Disgusting.”

“What?”

“The Gods.”

I could never forget Quellière’s expression at that moment.

She seemed to hate the gods intensely. What could have driven her to such hatred?

What kind of footprints had she left behind in her life?

“There’s no way to know now, is there?”

Quellière left.

There was no way to meet her, and even if I did, there was no reason for her to assist in subjugating the Serpent God.

It would have been ideal to borrow her power, but the chance had slipped away.

Letting out a sigh, I decided to seek out my “final option.” I didn’t want to, and I tried to avoid even considering it, but it was the last straw.

A person among my connections who possessed the strongest influence.

“Anasha, is this how it’s done?”

A pure, innocent face of a smiling girl flickered in my mind.

*

Darkness enveloped the imperial palace.

After lights-out, a boy who had been lying quietly in a dim chamber suddenly sat up.

His wide eyes seemed untouched by sleep.

The boy, Artan, tiptoed toward the window.

He moved with a special stealth he’d mastered to ensure the knights standing guard outside the chamber wouldn’t notice.

It was a skill he had secretly honed during training with his instructor knights.

“No one will notice…”

Steps infused with magical energy were unnaturally quiet.

Artan was an extraordinary genius among geniuses.

Being a magic user at his age was remarkable enough, but he had also been born with exceptional control and skill, surpassing most knights.

It wasn’t without reason that the royal knights praised him as having “talent bestowed by the gods.”

But perhaps his overwhelming talent made Artan’s ego overly inflated.

He disliked the adults who looked up to him yet still treated him as someone to be protected.

He liked being admired.

He believed he deserved it. But why, whenever he tried to do something, did they oppose him at every turn and refuse to let him leave the palace?

“I am not weak.”

Artan considered himself a strong individual.

In truth, he was so strong that he could barely defeat lower-ranking knights.

At his age, such a feat was unheard of.

So… dealing with a single ruin alone should be more than possible.

Even at night, the security of the imperial palace was relatively tight.

It was likely because he had been caught sneaking out of the palace before, prompting them to reinforce the watch.

For a moment, he was taken aback but had no intention of giving up.

Focusing his mind, he spread his magical energy even more finely. He lightly descended and scaled the walls.

Using the walls and ramparts as a shield, he concealed himself, deftly evading the watchful eyes of the guards.

It was an impressive display of skill.

“I’ll change how you think.”

When the ruins appeared near Roblock, the entire royal city was thrown into turmoil. Especially the scholars deeply versed in archaeology, who were alight with excitement.

Artan had learned of the ruins’ existence then, and in that moment, he was struck by a lightning-like sensation.

This was it.

A structure revered and admired by all—a ruin. If he could handle it alone, they would have no choice but to reevaluate him.

No longer would they dare to treat him like a weakling.

“The artifact said to be dormant inside the ruins… if I can get my hands on it.”

More than anything, it would serve as irrefutable evidence.

Additionally, he felt a flutter of excitement.

Breaking through the ruins to claim an artifact sealed for hundreds or even thousands of years—earning its recognition as a hero.

Wasn’t that like something out of a legend?

A distorted psychology born from his defiance against adults who went against his wishes.

That youthful, misguided heart would drag him and many others into a mire… but he couldn’t realize that now.

Artan moved as if conducting an espionage mission, maneuvering with agility and precision.

There were moments of tension, but he used his wits to avoid detection.

At last, he reached the outskirts of the imperial palace near the stables.

Spotting a lone coachman still present, Artan thought the heavens must be helping him.

“Hey.”

“Huh? Who’s… gasp!”

The diligent coachman, who had stayed late to maintain the carriages, gasped in shock.

Why on earth was the Crown Prince here?

Surely, it had been long past lights-out.

Trembling, the coachman bowed his head.

“Y-Your Highness the Crown Prince. What brings you here personally…?”

A master so high that he couldn’t even bear to look at him.

The coachman, overwhelmed with confusion, couldn’t immediately think of the proper etiquette.

Judging that his actions lacked sufficient respect for the exalted presence before him, he attempted to kneel… but Artan stopped him.

“Enough. Coachman, take me.”

“…Pardon?”

The coachman couldn’t believe his ears.

What was this now?

A person as noble as the Crown Prince didn’t simply leave the palace. Such outings required thorough arrangements, an impeccable carriage, a vetted coachman, and a retinue of bodyguards…

“W-Where are the others, Your Highness?”

Indeed, there was no one around the Crown Prince.

This was an impossibility, something that should not be.

The coachman felt a growing sense of dread.

“I won’t say it twice. Take me.”

But the boy’s resolute tone left him no choice but to comply.

Artan climbed into the carriage the coachman had been working on, and the coachman soon took his place at the reins.

The carriage creaked into motion, heading toward the outer gate.

The outer gate had the fewest guards among all entrances to the palace. Moreover, it was the dead of night.

It would be easy enough to subdue a few sleepy guards. However, once awakened, they would raise the alarm and initiate pursuit, so time was of the essence.

Riding a horse would have been far superior in terms of mobility.

But the Crown Prince had never ridden such an “inconvenient thing” before.

He had always used the comfortable seats of carriages, so he didn’t even consider it.

In many ways, he was an inexperienced, naive boy.