The Rewloola-class warship, armored and equipped with Minovsky particle shields and powerful thrust, tore through the Storm Wall as easily as slicing thin paper—but the reality everyone now faced remained harsh.
Even with thick armor and holographic screens, a chill deep enough to freeze souls crept up everyone's spine, riding along their optic nerves. The external temperature sensors read a hopeless -100°C.
In this frozen hell, an ordinary person wouldn't even be able to survive—one breath, and your lungs would freeze and rupture.
"How... How are we supposed to land here?!"
Director Goredolf stared at the lifeless blue-white world outside, his face paler than the snow.
"Even in our polar Chaldea uniforms, we're only just barely alive!"
"You'd need ten tis normal stamina to work in these conditions!"
"And if the Shadow Border's heater fails, we'll all turn into popsicles!"
"The Director is right," Hols said gravely, pipe in mouth.
"Sensor readings indicate the atmospheric composition of this Lostbelt is even subtly different from all phases of human history."
"It's not just the cold—the extre concentration of magical energy is also a problem... This is more than a harsh environnt—it's outright inhospitable."
Mash balled her fists. Though she was a demi-servant with abilities vastly beyond ordinary humans, she couldn't help but feel a primal fear in the face of such overwhelming natural force.
"Um... Steve?"
Ritsuka, unconcerned about the -100°C temperature, turned to the man lounging casually in the captain's chair.
"This ship is so powerful—surely you've, well, got so kind of... secret weapon or sothing?"
Sion smiled faintly, a knowing look about him.
He stood and reached into the inner pocket of his red military coat—a magic pocket Ritsuka now equated with a four-dinsional space.
"Let's show a little rcy, then... Ahem! Crossed the line on set this ti…"
"Relying on endurance to fight the environnt is romantic, yes, but I care more about efficiency. Plus, cute girls shivering in the snow just doesn't match my aesthetic."
As the ntally-generated BGM that only Fujimaru could hear played in her head, Steve pulled out a strange flashlight from his pocket. It was red, with a bulbous, lamp-like top. It looked ordinary—almost like a toy.
"This is..."
Ritsuka's eyes widened, the corner of her mouth twitching.
"Ta-da!"
Steve had no voice actor, but his pose with the gadget was highly relatable.
"This is the Adaptive Light."
Steve explained seriously,
"Whether you're in the deep sea, outer space, or a frozen hell at -100°C, as long as you stand in this light, your body will automatically adapt to the environnt."
"Simply put, you could even dance naked in frozen world, and it'd feel no more than a cool autumn breeze."
"... I knew it!"
Ritsuka finally burst out, pointing at the flashlight.
"That's totally a Doraemon gadget! Are you sure there aren't copyright issues? Why do you even carry this stuff?!"
"Don't sweat the details, Ritsuka... This is a product of the 21st century future."
Steve ignored her protests and pressed the switch.
A gentle, warm light instantly enveloped everyone.
"Huh?!"
Goredolf tried to duck, but the light was much faster.
Suddenly, everyone felt a rush of warmth, as if their bodies had reconciled with the surrounding space—not the heat of a bath, but a pleasant, comfortable adaptation.
"Is this... Is this…?"
Goredolf touched his face in shock.
"I feel lighter... that heavy feeling is gone?"
"Amazing…"
Mash stretched out, eyes bright with wonder.
"Senpai, it's not cold at all! This feels... cozy?"
"The effect lasts 24 hours," Steve said, putting the flashlight away and raising a finger.
"That's enough ti to finish our initial survey and build a base."
"Of course, I recomnd wearing polar winter outfits so the natives don't get suspicious. Otherwise, you'd stand out as monsters for wearing only a single layer in this weather."
"Of course!"
Ritsuka griped, but inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.
With this buff, the difficulty dropped from Hell Mode to Picnic Mode.
"Next cos the amphibious landing operation," Steve continued, tracing his finger over the map.
"I'd have liked to land the warship and perform a divine intervention for the Lostbelt King myself, but…"
He trailed off, with a hint of regret in his eyes.
"This Rewloola-class ship is hundreds of ters long—landing it would cause a scene."
"That would give away our position instantly, and could trigger full-scale war."
"Our top priority right now is intelligence gathering, not slaughter."
He glanced at the black Shadow Border parked in the hangar corner.
"If my battleship hogged all the attention, that poor Shadow Border would cry."
"As Chaldea's historic vehicle, it deserves so glory too, right?"
"The Shadow Border won't cry!"
Da Vinci (as a hologram) protested from the side.
"But Steve is right… The smaller Shadow Border is more suitable for a recon infiltration."
"And with Adaptive Light activated, we won't even need to worry about cabin heating."
"It's decided, then."
Steve waved his hand.
"Shadow Border team, please board."
"We'll perform a tactical orbital drop."
…
Ten minutes later, the bottom hatch of the Rewloola-class warship slowly opened.
Even under optical camouflage, the hatch's opening disturbed the clouds below, sending a massive swirl into the snowstorm.
Steve's voice crackled over the comms into the Shadow Border cockpit.
"Altitude 3,000 ters. Landing zone locked in. Antigravity catapult fully charged."
"Everyone hold tight. This ride is more thrilling than an amusent park drop tower!"
"Wait, wait! Is it really necessary to do it so rough?!"
Goredolf yelled as he buckled himself in.
"Shadow Border, launch!"
With a chanical roar, the white subrsible shot out like an arrow, piercing the stealth field, transforming into a white teor that plunged straight toward the snowy plain.
"WAAAAAAH—!!!"
Amidst Goredolf's distinctive scream, the Shadow Border drew a perfect parabola in the air.
Just before impact, Da Vinci expertly triggered reverse thrusters and deployed the impact-absorbing airbags.
Bang!
A muffled thud, snow flying everywhere. Shadow Border landed safely.
The shaking was still fierce, but compared to an actual crash, this was textbook tactical landing.
"Landing confird. All safe (Director looks about to puke)!"
Ritsuka's voice on the coms was tinged with excitent.
"Very good," Sion nodded in satisfaction, gazing at the lights moving across his screen.
"From here... the stage is yours. I'll be watching over you."
…
On the Ground
As the hatch opened and cold wind rushed in, Ritsuka and Mash shrank back reflexively. Yet the next mont, they realized the biting cold felt just cool—no pain at all.
"It really isn't cold…?"
In white winter gear, Ritsuka gingerly stepped out onto the snow.
They were surrounded by desolate, white forest, dead tree-trunks clawing toward the gray sky.
"This is the Russian Lostbelt…," Mash murmured, gripping her shield and scanning the surroundings.
Though the environnt was no longer deadly, an oppressive atmosphere still weighed on the land.
Suddenly, a deep engine sound and a beast's roar shattered the silence.
"Warning! Hostile reactions detected—number: 20! Approaching fast!"
Hols's voice ca through the headset.
Ritsuka whipped her head up, spotting a group of dark figures on the distant slope.
They were not human.
These were monsters with wolf heads and human bodies, brandishing crude firearms.
These are the inhabitants of this world—the Yaga.
"Are these… the humans of this world?"
Ritsuka clenched her fist, eyes sharpening.
At their head stood a particularly tall wolfman, gun at the ready, fixing a sharp gaze on the oddly-dressed intruders.
That was Patxi.
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