The world shifted.
Arlo stumbled forward as though shoved through a veil of glass, the air vanishing from his lungs before slamming back in like he'd run headfirst into winter itself.
The first thing that registered un his mind was cold.
Not the kind of cold he knew back home—the sort of mild, crank-up-the-heater cold that came with shivering and numb fingers.
No, this was skin-slicing, bone-biting cold. The kind of cold that felt alive, clawing straight through his thin shirt and gnawing at his marrow as though his body was nothing but a slab of meat left out in the snow.
His breath burst into the open air, a stream of white fog immediately torn apart by a slicing gale.
He wheezed, clutching his arms around his torso, eyes wide.
"Wh–what the hell!?"
The words barely escaped before they were whisked away by the howling wind.
Arlo blinked against the sting in his eyes, and then he realized they weren't standing in any normal place at all.
Beneath his feet stretched a bridge of pale stone, frosted with a sheen of ice so thin it gleamed like glass. It extended outward like a spine from a jagged tower, suspending them above a vast and endless abyss of storm.
Snow.
Endless snow.
The landscape below wasn't a landscape at all—it was chaos.
A world drowned in white, in a furious blizzard that devoured horizon and sky alike.
The gale screamed as if the earth itself howled in rage. Nothing could be seen beyond the swirling storm, no mountains, no forests, not even the faintest line of ground. Just eternal, merciless white.
Arlo's teeth chattered so violently it sounded like dice rattling in a cup.
His knees knocked together as he crouched low, instinctively terrified the storm would simply rip him from the bridge and cast him into nothingness.
"Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap—"
His muttering was swallowed by the wind.
And yet… beside him, the two women walked without pause.
The knight in her polished armor stepped forward, unbothered. The snow clung to her steel plates and slid off as though ashamed to touch her. Her stride was steady, sure, utterly immune to the storm.
Ahead of them, the Queen—still in her towering human form—moved with the casual grace of someone strolling through her garden. The wind tugged at her silvery-white hair, sending the long strands whipping around her pale face like a halo spun from ice. Her expression didn't so much as twitch at the cold that had Arlo's skin burning raw.
He stared at them, trembling violently, and a single thought crashed through his head:
'I really am dead.'
This wasn't Earth.
This wasn't some frozen tundra in the north he'd accidentally stumbled into. This was a different world altogether—one that clearly didn't give a damn about human frailty.
And worse still, he wasn't just in another world.
He was in what looked like enemy territory.
Arlo dared a glance at the Ice Queen's back.
Her frame was tall, perfect, commanding even in silence. Every motion she made was so deliberate it felt like the world bent to accommodate her.
He swallowed hard.
'Okay, okay, let's think.'
His thoughts spun as fast as the blizzard below.
He'd woken up in a dragon's treasure hoard.
A book had fused with him—the Innovator System, whatever the hell that meant. Then the giant, nightmare-inducing dragon eye. And then, suddenly, she was in human form, dragging him along like a puppy on a leash.
His mind screamed at him to run. To bolt down the bridge and pray the storm swallowed him before she did.
But he wasn't an idiot.
He glanced to the sides, where the bridge dropped into an abyss of storm. The wind howled with such force he'd be shredded, frozen, or buried alive in snow the instant he left the Queen's presence.
Escape was suicide.
So no, running wasn't an option.
That left… survival.
Arlo's jaw clenched as he shivered violently, his knees knocking together with every step.
'If I'm going to live, it's through her.'
She was obviously royalty—or something even higher.
The knight bowed to her. She commanded presence with nothing but silence.
And now she had complete control of his life.
Which meant…
'If I want to make it, I need to get on her good side somehow.'
The thought nearly made him laugh—though the laugh would've been brittle and hysterical.
Get on her good side? The woman radiated "I could freeze your soul just by glaring."
She clearly didn't have a good side. But he didn't have another choice.
He rubbed his arms furiously, hunching down as he stumbled after them.
His shoes squeaked on the frost-coated bridge. His thin shirt was already stiffening from the ice.
'Note to self: step one to survival, get a damn coat.'
He grimaced.
His mind darted back to the System.
That book, the floating words, the whole thing about being "Chosen Innovator".
Maybe it had tools, maybe it had powers, maybe, just maybe, it had an "Escape Crazy Dragon Lady" button.
That thought alone was the only thing keeping him moving.
Until then, though… he had to play along.
He had to man up and accept whatever humiliating crap they threw at him.
It wasn't like he had a bargaining chip.
"Just don't eat me," he whispered to himself, his lips already blue. "That's all I ask. Please, God, don't let her eat me. Or step on me. Or toss me off this damn bridge—"
The words died as the Queen suddenly slowed.
Arlo nearly bumped into her back but skidded to a halt just in time, his shoes slipping on the frost.
His heart jumped into his throat.
The Ice Queen raised her head slightly. Before them loomed a pair of massive doors.
They weren't ordinary doors.
They were carved from polished crystal, tall enough to dwarf even giants.
Intricate runes etched their surfaces, glowing faintly like trapped starlight.
Frost rimed their edges, pulsing with a soft shimmer as if they weren't just doors at all, but portals to somewhere far beyond the storm.
Through the faint crack between them spilled a light too pure to belong in the blizzard.
Golden, warm, alien.
The knight stepped forward and pressed her hand against the shimmering surface.
The runes pulsed.
The doors groaned open.
Arlo squinted as the glow spilled outward, swallowing the storm in radiance. His frozen breath caught in his throat.
And there, beyond the threshold, he saw not snow, not wind, not ruin—
—but terrifyingly regal.
A courtroom.
Grand, vast, and waiting.
The light of its chandeliers glimmered across a chamber vast enough to house armies, lined with pillars of ice and silver.
Rows of seats stretched into shadow.
At the far end, a throne carved from frost itself gleamed beneath the light.
Arlo's stomach turned to ice.