Sabre wished more than anything that the earth would swallow him whole. Of all the things that could have happened to him after barely surviving the forest, waking up, wandering toward a waterfall, and accidentally seeing a furious woman bathing was not on the list. He stood frozen in place, his heart thundering in his chest as if trying to escape before the situation worsened.
He kept his eyes glued to the ground, terrified to so much as blink in her direction. His palms were raised in a universal sign of surrender, trembling slightly from panic.
"I swear it was an accident," Sabre said quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth. "I didn't know anyone was here. I just came because I hoped I could take a bath!"
Even as he spoke, he felt the accusation hanging in the air like a blade above his neck. The woman's anger felt sharp enough to cut him where he stood. Her breathing was heavy—part fury, part embarrassment—and the air around her crackled faintly with a cold energy that made the tiny hairs on Sabre's arms rise.
The lady's voice lashed out like a whip.
"So you decided to stare at me naked?"
Sabre flinched as if struck.
"I didn't stare!" he protested desperately. "It was half a second! If I could rewind time—I swear—I would glue my eyes shut!"
His voice shook a little, but he meant every word. Shame burned in his chest. Of all the times for his life to be on the line, it just had to be because of something this stupid.
He heard her breathe sharply—an angry, embarrassed exhale that vibrated with restrained frustration. For a split second, Sabre allowed himself to believe she might calm down. He even let out a tiny sigh of relief, feeling the tension in his shoulders loosen just a bit.
But fate hated him.
Just as he turned his back to distance himself, the ground beneath his feet trembled with a sudden surge of cold energy. Before he could react, a massive column of ice slammed into his side with brutal force. Air rushed out of his lungs as the impact sent him flying. He bounced across the ground, rolling through dirt and leaves until his body finally skidded to a painful stop.
He groaned, every bone in his body screaming.
"What… what was that for…?" he wheezed, though he already knew the answer.
A shadow loomed over him.
"I am the Princess of the Cloud Mist Palace," her voice declared, now steady and venomous. "You dared to see me naked. The only punishment fit for you… is death. And I assure you—it will be the most horrible kind."
Sabre's blood ran cold.
She was no ordinary woman. Her presence alone radiated an intimidating aura, as if the surrounding temperature dropped with each breath she took. Mist swirled behind her, forming delicate patterns that danced like living frost. Her earlier nakedness was gone; she now wore a long, flowing gown woven of white and icy blue, the fabric shimmering like frozen moonlight. It clung to her shape with an elegance befitting royalty.
Sabre, however, had no time to admire the beauty. She looked ready to kill him on the spot.
She clasped her arms together, raising her hands gracefully before lowering them as if guiding energy between her palms. Frost began forming instantly—first as a faint mist, then as swirling shards of crystallized air. The cold grew sharper, condensing like a living storm between her hands. The frost thickened, shaping itself into a long and deadly spear with intricate patterns along its crystalline shaft.
Sabre felt dread pool in his stomach.
"I said it was an accident!" he shouted, trying to push himself up. His limbs shook violently, both from pain and sheer terror. "Can we talk about this? I swear I didn't mean to—"
"Silence."
Her eyes locked onto him, burning with icy fury.
"You have seen what no man is permitted to see," she said. "You have stolen a moment that belonged to the sacred privacy of the Princess of Cloud Mist Palace."
She raised the spear, its tip gleaming with lethal intent.
Sabre's breath hitched. His survival instincts kicked in, screaming at him to run, to dive, to roll, to do something, but his aching body barely responded.
"Now die!"
The spear crackled in her hands, cold energy spilling off it in waves. She stepped forward, ready to strike.
Sabre scrambled backward, his palms digging into the dirt.
"Wait—WAIT! Are you serious?! Over a misunderstanding?! I was just looking for water!"
But she was unmoved.
To her, he was a trespasser, a defiler, someone who had seen something forbidden. In her eyes, there was no room for coincidence or misfortune—only punishment.
Sabre coughed and forced his legs to move, dragging himself backward until his back hit a tree. His heart hammered wildly. His mind spun in circles, desperate to think of any method of survival.
"Come on, Sabre," he muttered to himself. "First monsters, then near-death exhaustion, and now an angry ice princess who thinks you're a pervert… what kind of cursed luck is this?"
The princess took another step, the spear raised.
Sabre's instincts screamed again, louder this time—run, fight, plead, anything.
But what could he do?
He had no strength left, no energy, no advantage. Even at his peak, he doubted he could match someone who commanded ice as effortlessly as breathing.
Her shadow fell over him.
Sabre shut his eyes tightly, raising his arms to shield himself.
"I'm telling the truth! I didn't mean to see anything! I don't want to die over bathwater!"
The forest wind shifted.
The air thickened with killing intent.
And the spear descended