The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family-Chapter 183: Omens in the Ice

The second day of flight brought them into the true northern territories. Jagged ridges of ice-crusted rock replaced the sparse forests, and the temperature plummeted to a bone-deep chill that seeped through layers of enchanted White Lion cold-weather gear.

Klaus led the formation with a stoic vigilance, occasionally glancing down at his palm. The mysterious rune that had appeared after Greed's disappearance had been throbbing since dawn, a steady pulse that intensified whenever he faced directly toward Northwatch. He flexed his fingers, trying to dispel the sensation, but it persisted—a silent warning he couldn't quite decipher.

By midday, they spotted an unusual formation in the distance—a massive spire of ice that rose from the frozen landscape like a sentinel. Its surface gleamed with unnatural colors despite the overcast sky, reflecting prismatic hues that shifted and swirled beneath its crystalline surface.

"That's not natural," Alexandra said, guiding her griffon closer to Klaus's. "Rift corruption."

Leone's voice carried from the right flank. "Ice Spires. They form where rift energy saturates the landscape. We should keep our distance."

Klaus studied the formation with narrowed eyes. The rune on his palm burned sharply as he focused on the spire. "No. We should investigate."

"That wasn't in our orders," Leone objected. "We're to proceed directly to Northwatch."

"Look at the patterns in the ice," Klaus responded. "Those aren't random formations."

Leone squinted at the distant structure. "I don't see—"

"Runes," Klaus said simply. "Similar to those used in communication relays. This might explain why Northwatch went silent."

A murmur rippled through both teams. Alexandra gave Klaus a questioning look but supported him immediately. "He's right. It's worth checking."

After a brief but tense exchange, Leone reluctantly agreed to a short detour. They approached the spire cautiously, griffons circling wide to survey the surrounding area before landing at a safe distance from the towering structure.

The ice formation rose nearly a hundred feet into the air, its crystalline surface translucent enough to reveal swirling patterns underneath—complex geometric designs that shifted subtly as if alive. The ground around it was unnaturally smooth, reflecting the sky like a frozen mirror.

"Keep alert," Klaus ordered as he dismounted. "Team defensive formation. Standard rift protocols."

His team moved with practiced efficiency, creating a perimeter while Commander Leone instructed his squad to maintain a secondary ring of defense. The coordination between the teams had improved markedly since their departure, mutual wariness giving way to professional respect.

Klaus approached the spire cautiously, Alexandra and Juron flanking him. As they drew closer, the air grew noticeably thicker, as if the very atmosphere resisted their presence.

"The resonance is similar to a yellow-class rift," Alexandra observed, her cyan aura flickering to life around her blade. "Not immediately dangerous, but potentially unstable."

Klaus nodded in agreement. Yellow-class rifts were known for their unpredictability—not as common as red-class tears in reality, but significantly more dangerous. Every White Lion soldier was familiar with the classification system.

The rune on Klaus's palm now burned with such intensity that he had to consciously prevent himself from wincing. Something about this spire was deeply wrong, beyond the obvious rift corruption.

"Do you feel that?" he asked quietly.

Alexandra tensed beside him. "A pressure. Like being watched."

Klaus extended his hand toward the ice, careful not to touch it. The rune pulsed visibly now, its dark lines glowing with a faint obsidian light. Within the spire, something shifted in response—patterns rearranging themselves to mirror the symbol on his palm.

He pulled back instantly. "It's reactive."

Juron's grip tightened on his sword. "What does that mean?"

"It means it's not just corrupted ice," Klaus said grimly. "It's a construct. Deliberately placed."

A low rumble shook the ground beneath them. Cracks appeared along the base of the spire, spreading upward like lightning across its surface. The patterns inside became more agitated, swirling faster as the ice began to fracture.

"Everyone back to the griffons!" Klaus commanded sharply. "Now!"

The teams scrambled to retreat as segments of ice broke free from the spire, crashing to the ground. Where they shattered, misty forms began to coalesce—vaguely humanoid shapes composed of ice crystals and rift energy.

"Ice Wraiths," Leone shouted. "Don't let them touch you!"

One of Team 27's soldiers reacted too slowly. A wraith's elongated fingers brushed his arm, and instantly frost spread across his flesh. He screamed, dropping to his knees as the cold invaded his body.

Klaus assessed the situation in seconds. "Juron, Alexandra—defensive screen. Team 27, extract your wounded. The rest, maintain distance and prepare for aerial departure."

The wraiths moved with unnatural grace, drifting over the ice rather than walking. Their features were indistinct save for hollow cavities where eyes should be, glowing with the same prismatic light as the spire itself.

Alexandra's cyan-infused blade sliced through one wraith, dispersing its form temporarily before it began to reform. "Conventional attacks only slow them!"

Klaus knew she was right. These weren't ordinary rift manifestations—they were tied to the spire itself, which was still disgorging more of the entities with each passing moment.

The rune on his palm now felt like a brand pressed against his skin. Acting on instinct, Klaus channeled a sliver of arcane energy into his sword and struck the ground at his feet.

Dark energy rippled outward in a perfect circle, creating a barrier between the retreating teams and the advancing wraiths. Where the energy touched the ice, it left behind blackened scorch marks—patterns eerily similar to the rune on his palm.

The wraiths recoiled from the barrier, their misty forms contorting in what might have been pain. The reaction confirmed Klaus's suspicion—these weren't random manifestations. They were sentinels. Guardians.

"Get everyone mounted," he called to Alexandra. "This won't hold for long."

As teams scrambled onto their griffons, Klaus maintained the barrier, carefully measuring his energy output to avoid revealing too much of his true power. Leone supervised the evacuation, his earlier skepticism replaced by grim efficiency.

The wounded soldier from Team 27 was hoisted onto his griffon, his frost-covered arm now frightfully pale. "He needs immediate treatment," Leone warned.

"There's a shelter marked on the maps," Klaus replied. "Half an hour's flight east of here. We can regroup there."

As the last rider mounted, Klaus finally backed toward his own griffon, maintaining the barrier until the last possible moment. The wraiths pressed against the dark energy, their forms growing more substantial with each attempt to breach it.

"Whatever this is," Alexandra said as Klaus mounted his griffon, "it wasn't here when the last patrols came through. Someone—or something—placed it recently."

Klaus nodded grimly. "And that something doesn't want visitors heading to Northwatch."

They took to the air, the griffons straining against the frigid wind that had intensified during the confrontation. Behind them, the spire was now completely disintegrated, and dozens of wraiths drifted across the blackened ice, unable to pursue but watching with empty, luminous eyes.

The wounded soldier's condition deteriorated rapidly during the flight to the shelter. Despite emergency treatment, frost continued to spread through his veins, visible as dark lines beneath his skin.

"I've never seen a reaction like this," Alexandra confessed, applying a White Lion healing salve to no effect. "This isn't ordinary freezing."

The rune on Klaus's palm had subsided to a dull throb, but remained warmer than the surrounding skin. He studied the soldier's frost-covered arm with a growing sense of unease. The patterns of ice spreading through the man's flesh seemed familiar—almost like writing.

Klaus had seen such markings before, in his previous life. Not just rift corruption, but a message. A warning.

By the time they reached the shelter—a sturdy stone outpost built into the side of a mountain—the soldier had lost consciousness. His breathing came in shallow gasps, and the frost had reached his shoulder.

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As Leone and the others worked to stabilize him, Klaus stood at the shelter's entrance, gazing north toward Northwatch. The distant glow of the Eternal Rift pulsed against the horizon, a malevolent heartbeat that seemed to synchronize with the throbbing in his palm.

"This mission just got significantly more complicated," Alexandra said quietly, joining him.

"It was never simple," Klaus replied. "But now we know someone doesn't want us to reach Northwatch."

"Or they want to ensure we arrive... changed," she suggested, glancing back at the wounded soldier.

Klaus's fingers traced the rune on his palm absently. "Either way, we'll need to be far more cautious. No more direct approaches. No more predictable paths."

She studied his profile in the fading light. "You've dealt with something like this before, haven't you?"

Klaus remained silent for a long moment. "Let's just say I recognize patterns where others might see chaos."

They stood together in silence, watching as darkness fell over the frozen wasteland. Tomorrow they would reach Northwatch—if the city truly still existed. Klaus couldn't shake the feeling that what awaited them was far worse than silence.

The rune on his palm pulsed once more, as if in agreement.