Splash—waves collided with the ice, breaking into white froth and spilling over the surface.
The seawater, a deep blend of dark blue and navy, grew impossibly dark the farther it stretched inward. Yet the calm surface was like a mirror, reflecting the solitary iceberg upside down. Though the sea occasionally shifted with ripples, the iceberg’s reflection remained unnervingly clear—no blur, no tremor.
Fourteen people were walking on that sea. More precisely, they were walking along a straight path of ice cutting across the water. Though they stood on snowboards conjured by magic, these users were undeniably exploring the sea itself.
The ice path stretching from the shore to the iceberg was impeccably neat. Its top gleamed with a polished shine, and its sides were sharply squared off, as if carved by a master craftsman’s blade.
Yet the faint blue glow permeating the entire ice path betrayed its magical origin. This was proof of the user’s exceptional skill in controlling their magic to freeze seawater—not just freezing it blindly, but carefully shaping it. Such precision was beyond the reach of most mages.
Still, each time a wave struck, the ice path wobbled slightly, making every step a cautious one.
“Ah, I think I’m gonna pee.”
Yoo-jeong Lee stretched her arms out wide to keep her balance, her face anxious. The way she shifted her hips now and then suggested she wasn’t joking.
The sea’s stillness was so complete that silence seemed to seep into every corner. When quiet becomes too intense, it doesn’t soothe—it unsettles. It felt like stepping into another world, another dimension. And the source had said it plainly: the Sacred Coast was a graveyard. So it wasn’t surprising that the eerie atmosphere made her bladder tighten.
Of course, not everyone felt that way. Some users, either naturally insensitive or unafraid of ghosts, walked the ice path without issue. In fact, it was a rather novel experience. Most explorations happened on land; creating an ice path to traverse the sea was rare and thrilling.
“If you really have to, just go here. It’s painful to watch.”
Jin Soo-hyun muttered quietly, twisting his body with each step. Yoo-jeong shot him a catlike glare.
“Go pee right here?”
“What’s the big deal? We’ll just move ahead first. And it’s all sea around us—no one will mind a little slip-up.”
“Still, it’s a graveyard…”
“Ah, they’re already dead. Why worry so much? Besides, from their perspective, it might not be so bad.”
Shrugging, Jin Soo-hyun grinned cheekily.
“Think about it. It’s been ages since they’ve seen a living person. And here comes a fresh, lively young lady flashing her pale white behind. The male spirits must be thrilled by the sight… Ah!”
Yoo-jeong didn’t hesitate to smack him after listening for only a moment. Jin Soo-hyun nearly fell into the sea, and the scuffling noise shattered the surrounding silence.
But the noise quickly died down. Yoo-jeong and Jin Soo-hyun stopped their quarrel as if on cue and looked ahead. Nam Da-eun, who had turned her head, shot them a sharp glare. Her eyes, cold as a biting winter wind, silenced them instantly. Even as she stepped away, Yoo-jeong couldn’t help but glance sideways—at Kim Soo-hyun, who was trudging along at the front.
“User: Jegal Haesol.”
Just those few words, but the atmosphere along the coast turned icy. The pressure was unlike anything they’d felt crossing the ice mountain earlier, weighing down on their entire bodies. Kim Soo-hyun quickly regained composure and ordered the creation of another ice path as usual, but the mood had undeniably shifted.
Except for two, no one really knew why Kim Soo-hyun had reacted that way. They could only guess from Jegal Haesol’s awkward apology that something had gone wrong. Though Haesol had stepped forward like comic relief, it seemed unlikely that was the cause of the anger. Their plans had differed, but no real conflict had erupted. Instead, Kim Soo-hyun had suddenly cut off the explanation and glared.
In any case, the mood was complicated, but for now, they had no choice but to follow silently.
“……”
After a moment, Kim Soo-hyun stopped walking at the front. They had finally reached the first iceberg. This meant the initial objective was achieved. Though still some distance from the shore, the surrounding icebergs were now relatively close. With the distance shortened, creating a path would be much easier.
The first iceberg towered over ten meters high but was small compared to the others. Ha Seung-woo, who had been leisurely observing, approached Kim Soo-hyun, who was staring intently at the iceberg.
“So, which direction will you make the path next?”
“Hm?”
Kim Soo-hyun turned, and Ha Seung-woo smiled faintly.
“This iceberg is unlikely to be the ‘Sacred Song.’ If we don’t hurry, we might not find it before nightfall.”
“I see.”
Though his voice was indifferent, Kim Soo-hyun nodded. Slowly scanning the surroundings, he pointed left with his index finger. About fifteen meters away floated a slightly larger iceberg.
“That one…?”
“I focused on the word ‘song.’ It’s better to exclude medium-sized icebergs.”
“So you plan to search near the cluster of large icebergs?”
“Not just large—almost mountain-sized icebergs. That’s where I want to start.”
Ha Seung-woo nodded in understanding. Jegal Haesol, overhearing, quickly moved to create a path in the indicated direction. But he hesitated when Ha Seung-woo turned to stop him.
“Step back. This time, I’ll try.”
“You’re going to do it?”
Haesol’s face showed surprise. The two had naturally dropped formalities.
“Yes. There’s something I want to test.”
Muttering something cryptic, Ha Seung-woo began chanting. Haesol looked incredulous but stepped back quietly when Kim Soo-hyun gave tacit approval. What was unusual was that Ha Seung-woo wasn’t using a staff—he formed hand seals with both hands. It was a rare double cast.
“────. ────. Et Confestim, Ice Via.”
Soon, Ha Seung-woo’s hands were engulfed in a fierce blue flame. After finishing the incantation, he plunged his hands into the seawater and lightly clapped. Then—
Thwomp!
A heavy sound erupted, far louder than a mere clap. A powerful spray of water crashed over the ice path. As the blue light sliced across the surface, the sea began to freeze with cracking sounds. After the sudden splash, the users watched the sea with intrigued eyes.
Wherever the blue light passed, seawater solidified, forming a new path. The magic weakened slightly after about ten meters, but with a boost from Ha Seung-woo, they safely reached the target iceberg. Another path was born.
“Ugh, this path’s pretty rough.”
Ha Seung-yoon glanced at the new path and muttered a small complaint.
Indeed, compared to Jegal Haesol’s path, Ha Seung-woo’s ice was noticeably uneven. It wasn’t enough to hinder walking, but the difference in smoothness was clear.
Jegal Haesol, watching nervously, stifled a laugh. Actually, he shrugged his shoulders with a smug grin. But Ha Seung-woo didn’t seem bothered. Instead, he stood up and smiled at Haesol.
“Well, one thing’s certain now.”
“Hm? What’s that?”
“That your magic power is higher than mine. And your control, too. You’re definitely worth keeping an eye on.”
“Oh, no. A stalker? But what can I do? I’m not planning to share user info. And aren’t you jumping to conclusions a bit?”
Jegal Haesol stretched his clasped hands and smirked teasingly, but Ha Seung-woo’s smile didn’t fade. His eyes gleamed sharply.
“No, really. I matched the width and thickness pretty well. But the speed was definitely different. My path was shorter than yours. That’s how I’m sure.”
“Is that so?”
“Well, let’s just say that for now. One-year mage.”
“……”
Ha Seung-woo chuckled and turned to walk the new ice path without hesitation. Jegal Haesol’s smile faded as he watched each person move forward. His narrowed eyes lingered on someone, then suddenly rolled the whites of his eyes.
“Ah, now I get it. It’s a strangely dirty feeling, really.”
Clicking his tongue, Jegal Haesol hurried after Kim Soo-hyun, who was already far ahead.
How much time had passed?
The sea expedition, which had started hours ago, dragged on until sunset just as Ha Seung-woo had feared. They mainly explored massive glaciers, but no sign of the sacred song of the priestess appeared.
They did stumble upon a naturally formed ice cave once. The moment it was found, the team excitedly rushed inside, and deep within, they managed to collect a few tiny ice crystals no bigger than fingernails. Jin Su-hyun confidently declared these to be the legendary elixir of the heavens, claiming they were solidified “blue oil” from the old tales. But upon inspection, they turned out to be nothing more than ordinary ice.
As they traced dozens of paths and covered most of the area, the team began to change. In a good way, they grew accustomed to walking the icy trails; in a bad way, they were growing weary—tired of the endless search for the sacred song.
Of course, the team thought they hadn’t found it yet, but I knew better. The truth was, we hadn’t really missed it. I had deliberately taken detours. Finding it all at once might have raised suspicion. So I made a show of searching—scanning the surroundings with draconic senses, poring over records—just to keep up appearances.
“Ugh. Another dead end here.”
After finishing the search at the far right edge, Ha Seung-yoon leaned casually against an iceberg, pouting. The others shared similar expressions—not exactly exhausted, but clearly bored. It was understandable; they’d covered most of the area by now. I thought it was about time someone said, “Maybe it’s not here after all?”
“Do you think we might have the location wrong?”
No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than someone spoke up.
“An-sol? Can you trust your instincts now…?”
“I don’t know.”
Lee Yoo-jung seemed to have a good idea, but An-sol just shook her head glumly. The mood was sinking.
In truth, the sacred song was as good as found. The spot was incredibly close to where we stood—just slightly off the obvious path. With a third eye, it was crystal clear.
I briefly considered revealing it, but part of me still hoped someone else would figure it out first.
After gathering my thoughts, I deliberately closed the records with a loud snap, flicked ash from my cigarette, and stepped forward.
“Let’s search a little longer. We’ll spend another hour or two exploring, and if nothing turns up, we’ll consider other options.”
The team, sensing the end was near, slowly got to their feet. We’d give it one last push, then if no luck, I’d reveal the truth on the way back.
“Hey, wait a second.”
Just then, Gong Chan-ho suddenly called us to a halt. He frowned, staring at the iceberg we’d just finished exploring.
“What’s up?”
“Look at this.”
He pointed his Suramachang spear at the glacier.
“Where exactly?”
“Here. Right here.”
The spear tip wobbled slightly. Following it, I saw a jagged section of the iceberg badly broken. A thought flashed through me.
Nam Da-eun tilted her head.
“Why does that matter?”
“This is the mark I made earlier.”
“…What?”
“No, no. Not here, over there. So we actually circled all the way back.”
At that moment, some still looked puzzled, but a flicker of realization crossed others’ eyes. The quick thinkers understood what he meant. I clenched my fist. Could this be Gong Chan-ho?
“Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”
“Absolutely not. A few hours ago, after so many dead ends, I got frustrated and kicked the iceberg hard.”
“…”
“I almost fell, but caught myself with the spear. The marks are still there.”
He pointed to another spot, where clear traces of a kick and spear impact remained.
“A barrier…?”
A low murmur spread, but the seasoned Ha Seung-woo quickly spoke up.
“Doubtful. We didn’t sense any barrier traces.”
“We’ve already completed a thorough scan. The chance of it being a barrier is about 82.8% unlikely.”
Je-gal Hae-sol and Geun-won argued back, but Ha Seung-woo just smirked.
“You’re only talking about reactive barriers. Do you really think barriers can be made by magic alone?”
A chuckle came from Je-gal Hae-sol—something I’d never heard from him before.
“Well, whatever. Clan Lord?”
Ha Seung-woo smiled dismissively and turned to me. Unlike when speaking to others, his tone was very polite.
“Have you ever heard of a ‘pathway barrier’?”
---------------------------= Author’s Note =---------------------------
The wise say that darkness is natural at one’s deathbed,
But they fail to grasp the truth—
Do not accept that magnificent night so purely.
The good weep by the last wave’s side, how beautiful it is.
Their fleeting ripples dance on the blue riverbank.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Those who cling to the high sun, praising it,
Realize too late they must leave it on their own terms.
Do not accept that magnificent night so purely.
Gravediggers, those near death, blind-eyed watchers—
Though to distant eyes they may shine like brilliant meteors,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And to my father, standing in sorrow’s place,
I pray you curse and bless me with your fierce tears.
Do not accept that magnificent night so purely.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
—Dylan Thomas, Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night