Era of Players: Death God

Noah stopped at the edge of a frozen lake, its surface shimmering under the pale light filtering through the wintry sky. The air was crisp, and each breath he took sent a thin mist into the air. He knew this would be the perfect place to push his limits—to refine his mana under the harshest conditions.

Without hesitation, he walked onto the ice. With a sharp motion of his hand, he used Flame Art to melt a hole in the frozen surface, steam hissing as the water beneath revealed itself. The lake was dark and endless, its depths unknown, but he didn't hesitate.

Noah took a deep breath and plunged in.

The freezing water slammed into him like a vice, stealing his breath away. The shock was immediate—his muscles locked up, and his body screamed at him to surface. But he forced himself to push downward, deeper into the lake's abyss.

The deeper he went, the colder it became, wrapping around him like an icy grip trying to drag him into the void. He felt his mana flicker within him, struggling against the overwhelming cold, but this was exactly why he had come.

Crossing his legs, he settled at the lake's bottom on a bed of smooth stones, closing his eyes.

He reached inward, feeling the flow of his mana.

At first, it was sluggish, stiff—just like his own body reacting to the cold. But that was the point. If he could make his mana move freely even in these extreme conditions, it meant he had mastered another layer of control.

Slowly, he circulated his mana through his body, envisioning it like a river. He guided it through his veins, forcing it to move against the oppressive cold. Every second was a battle, his body shivering violently, but he gritted his teeth and endured.

Time passed.

Minute by minute, he became more in sync with his mana. The energy within him responded faster, flowing smoother. He felt his senses sharpening, his control over mana deepening.

The cold no longer felt like an enemy. It became part of him.

One hour later, Noah opened his eyes. The cold no longer burned—it was simply there, a part of his existence. His mana had grown more refined, responding to his commands with greater precision.

Satisfied, he kicked off the lakebed and shot toward the surface.

Noah emerged from the water, steam rising off his skin as he stepped onto the ice. With a flick of his fingers, he activated Flame Art, drying himself almost instantly. He pulled on fresh clothes, feeling the difference in his body.

He could already tell—his mana control had improved dramatically.

His stomach rumbled.

"Time to eat."

Setting up a small cooking station, he pulled out his supplies. He had stored fresh ingredients from his item box—some dried meat, vegetables, and spices.

First, he heated his pan over a controlled flame, letting the warmth contrast against the frigid landscape around him. He diced the vegetables with quick, precise movements, then tossed them into the pan, letting the sizzling sound break the quiet air. The aroma of searing food mixed with the cold breeze, a strangely comforting contrast.

He added the meat next, letting it cook to perfection, its juices mingling with the vegetables. A pinch of salt, a sprinkle of herbs—he cooked with efficiency, the motions smooth and practiced.

When the dish was finally ready, he sat on a rock overlooking the frozen lake, taking his first bite. The warmth of the meal spread through him, a satisfying reward after his intense training.

As he ate, he gazed at the vast icy landscape before him.

There was still a long journey ahead, but after today, he felt stronger—more prepared than ever.

Tomorrow, he would go even further.

As evening settled over the dungeon, the icy landscape took on an almost ethereal glow. The snow-covered trees shimmered under the dim light, and the air held a crisp stillness, broken only by the occasional gust of wind sweeping through the valley. It was beautiful in its own way—harsh yet serene.

Noah found a secluded clearing near a frozen stream and quickly erected his tent. With practiced efficiency, he secured it against the wind and checked his surroundings one last time. Though his Presence Detection skill reassured him that no immediate threats lurked nearby, he remained vigilant.

But rest could wait.

He wasn't done training yet.

A Night of Discipline it would be.

Shedding his coat, Noah stepped out into the cold night air, clad in nothing but his combat gear. He dropped into a squat, muscles flexing as he began his routine. One. Two. Three.

The cold bit into his skin, but he embraced it, using it to sharpen his focus. His breath came out in steady puffs as he pushed through his sets.

Next, he moved on to push-ups, his hands pressed firmly into the frozen ground. Fifty… Sixty… Seventy… Each rep was slow and controlled, forcing his muscles to work harder.

Then came shadow boxing.

Noah's body moved like a coiled spring—swift, precise. Jab, cross, hook. Pivot. Elbow strike. Low kick. His movements flowed seamlessly, incorporating techniques from karate, taekwondo, and close-combat swordplay.

With each strike, he visualized an opponent—a phantom adversary, one stronger than him. He dodged invisible blows, countered unseen attacks, his body reacting on instinct. The rush of battle, even simulated, ignited his fighting spirit.

After nearly an hour, sweat slicked his body despite the freezing temperatures. His breath was heavy, but his mind felt clear. Sharpened. Focused.

Rest and Recovery

Satisfied, he cooled down with some light stretches before stepping toward the icy stream. The water was frigid, but he had grown accustomed to the cold. With a deep breath, he splashed it over his body, cleansing away the sweat. The chill reinvigorated him, washing away fatigue and leaving him refreshed.

Dressed in warmer clothes, he returned to his tent and prepared a simple meal.

Tonight, it was a hearty broth with dried meat and herbs. The warmth spread through him as he ate, replenishing his energy. The quiet crackle of the fire was the only sound in the silent wilderness.

Finally, Noah settled into his sleeping bag, gazing at the dim glow of the dungeon's ceiling.

Tomorrow would bring new battles, new challenges. But for now, he allowed himself this brief moment of peace.

His eyes closed. Sleep took him.