A Reluctant Resolve

Daphne stood before a wall of pristine ice. The ice surface was as smooth as a mirror, and she could see her reflection clearly within it.

The half-blood girl, with long, dark red hair, stood under 1.6 meters tall. She appeared to be around fifteen or sixteen years old, her figure slender and petite.

A pristine white fur cloak draped over her shoulders. Beneath it, a relatively conservative, light beige travel dress fell to just above her knees.

The white silk pantyhose beneath the hem softly contoured her calves. Her knees and ankles were sculpted with delicate precision by the hosiery, and her small feet, turned slightly inward, were encased in sleek, black flat-heeled leather shoes.

Her hands gripped tightly onto the shoulder strap of a satchel that crossed diagonally over her chest. She gazed at the ice surface with palpable unease.

After only a brief moment, her knees and calves began to tremble uncontrollably.

“No, this won’t do.”

Daphne brought a hand to cover her mouth.

“There’s no way I can walk like this.”

The intense sensation persisted. Every step felt like an agonizing ordeal.

While she appeared to be nothing more than a docile, honest, beautiful, and innocent half-blood girl on the outside, in reality, she was already a complete mess where it couldn’t be seen.

Fortunately, the silk stockings absorbed the moisture. This prevented it from spilling everywhere.

There was no other option; Daphne could only strive to adapt to her physical condition. She absolutely refused to become a helpless, flaccid toy, a fate she would never accept.

Only after enduring countless cycles of being tormented to the brink of death by the stockings, fainting, and then regaining consciousness, did Daphne finally manage to get dressed.

The absence of a bra was also proving to be an issue.

Even an occasional brush could leave her legs weak for half a day.

This particular issue was manageable, however. Her dress was somewhat loose, not clinging to her skin as tightly as the stockings, so a little caution during movement could easily prevent any discomfort.

The small leather satchel was precisely what Daphne urgently needed at this moment. Not long ago, she had been fretting about having nowhere to store her items.

After a quick inspection, Daphne tucked the dagger, hand mirror, and arrowheads from the display rack into her satchel.

The dagger was a fine-grade piece of equipment, a so-called “green item.” In games, it was only slightly better than common-grade “white items,” yet for a beginner, it was considered quite luxurious.

The arrowheads, on the other hand, were rare-grade crafting materials, colored blue. This placed them one tier higher than fine-grade green items.

While these two items might prove useful, their utility would likely be limited. Daphne decided to examine them more closely later.

The only item Daphne had misjudged was the hand mirror. Though it appeared ordinary, it was, in fact, an artifact on par with the ‘Pearl of Oseriel’s Piercing Core’.

Perhaps this very hand mirror was what Arsuga had been guarding. Keeping Oseriel’s worn dress was likely nothing more than a commemorative gesture.

She surmised that everything in this small room had once belonged to Oseriel. Thus, even the seemingly worthless green and blue-grade equipment and items had been kept by Arsuga, sealed beneath the Ice Tomb Throne.

[Oseriel’s Divine Mirror]

[Item – Special – Artifact]

[Unbound]

[Effects can only be viewed after binding. Bind now?]

‘Divine Mirror?’

Judging solely by the name, its purpose was difficult to discern. It seemed binding was necessary to ascertain its true function.

Despite her curiosity, Daphne knew her primary goal was to leave the Ice Tomb and return to the Norselands within the Empire.

Having already acquired the ‘seductive clothing’ specified by the MOD, and having met Arsuga, the King of the Ice Tomb, Daphne had no reason to linger here.

The only question now was: where would she go next?

In truth, Daphne’s best option would be to find a secluded path to escape the Norselands. She could then head south to a warmer part of the Empire, disguising herself with magic as an ordinary human to live out her days.

Though she lacked a profession and faith, with the decent equipment she had ‘scrounged’ for free, self-preservation in less dangerous areas would be more than sufficient.

Most people in this world would never even see epic-grade equipment in their lifetime. Legendary-grade items, far more precious, were entirely out of the question.

‘The end of the world? What does that have to do with me?’

If even deities, so much more powerful than her, couldn’t prevent the advent of the Final Twilight, what could a young half-blood girl who had lost everything possibly achieve?

All those grand pronouncements she had made to Arsuga were merely pleasantries to gain his trust. Now that she had the items, was she truly expected to honor their agreement and fight his mortal incarnation a decade later?

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

Even in the game, that particular challenge was a maximum difficulty raid dungeon, requiring twelve max-level players. No matter how strong she was alone, she couldn’t possibly contend with a deity’s incarnation.

‘But…’

Daphne felt a distinct pang of reluctance.

Having been inexplicably stripped of her power and identity, was her only remaining path to simply give up and flee? Could she truly stand by idly, watching disaster gradually approach in a world she once cherished?

As a player of ‘COG’, to remain completely inactive in a game world she knew so well felt far too passive.

Starting over was merely a matter of course, much like leveling an alt character in the past. Her extensive experience would help her avoid many detours.

Moreover, she truly had no right to slack off. With the R18 MOD in play, failing to strive for strength would only lead her to become a plaything for the ‘big sisters,’ a truly terrifying prospect.

At the very least, she had to find every possible way to enhance her own power.

The highest priority was to acquire a profession and faith. A profession would allow her to level up and strengthen skills, while faith would broaden her skill pool—these were the most direct ways to increase her strength.

If possible, it would be best to acquire an identity through ‘Blood Disguise’ to blend into human society.

‘Should I return to Kohl Town?’

While she might encounter Gwynevere again, Kohl Town was the nearest human settlement to the Donau Mountains. Reaching the more distant Rocan City would involve another forty to fifty kilometers of travel, making it quite impractical to bypass Kohl Town.

For now, it seemed she had no choice but to go there.

However, before that, Daphne suddenly conceived of an even better destination.