Eirik entered the cave.

  He blinked, forcing his eyes to adjust. Light seeped from deeper within, lighting walls shining with hoarfrost. Troll-stink hung beneath the air. He glanced upward. The symbols near the cave mouth beat. Triggered? Or sleeping? Without any mana, he couldn't tell without Identify. He couldn't afford to find out the hard way.

  Move.

  His survival, the Talons' survival, depended on him reaching that crystal source deep within this maze, and he had to do it before the shaman realized where he'd gone or before the trolls beat his men outside.

  He moved deeper into the tunnel. The light grew stronger, showing splitting passages ahead. A maze. He chose the left path leading towards the source of the light. He moved quickly but quietly, listening for any sound beyond his breathing.

  Ten yards in, the passage widened.

  An archway of ice-glazed rock framed the opening ahead. Hanging across it, woven from glowing ice, was a net. It shone with energy. A ward. Eirik stopped. Trap. Alarm. Both? He couldn't risk touching it.

  He scanned the walls. Ice, no handholds. The net was woven too tightly to slip through. He couldn't climb over without touching it. He looked down. The floor beneath the net shone differently –black ice. Pressure plate? He picked up a chunk of rock nearbym and tossed it towards the floor beneath the net.

  Clack. The rock hit the ice.

  Nothing happened for a split second. Then, with a HISSSSS, spikes of ice exploded upwards from the surface, slamming into the net above! The ice net lit up blue, taking in the impact and crackling. The spikes pulled back, leaving only the buzzing net and the black ice floor.

  Damn it.

  Direct attack or passage was suicide without magic. He needed another way. His eyes raked the walls near the archway again. The net… it's fixed to the rock on either side. Could he chip the ice holding it? He drew his dagger, testing the ice near one anchor point. It was fused to the stone. Chipping it would take forever, and every strike might be the trigger.

  He had Frostfire flasks tucked into his belt pouch. He considered one. Blow the net apart? But the flare of fire and the explosion would tell his location to the shaman. It would come. He'd be caught inside its lair, drained, facing a Peak Snow threat with nothing but steel.

  A roar echoed down the tunnel, shaking the stone beneath his feet. Damn. It was followed by the dragging tread of something large. A guard left behind? Panic clawed at his throat.

  He saw a shadow move against the wall of the lit passage ahead. Big. He pressed himself into a crack in the wall of the main tunnel, Skyfrost Cloak pulled tight, wishing for the non-existent mana to activate its camouflage. He held his breath.

  A figure moved slowly into view at the junction. Smaller than the warriors, barely ten feet tall, but thick-limbed. A worker troll. It sniffed the air. It held a chunk of frozen bone like a club. Its eyes swept the tunnels… and locked onto Eirik's hiding spot.

  Fuck.

  The troll growled, raising its bone club. It took a step towards Eirik's crack.

  Eirik's mind raced. Fight? In this narrow space, one hit from that bone club would crush him. Run Back? Another dead end. His eyes darted past the troll towards the warded archway.

  Need breeds madness…

  As the worker troll jumped, bone club screaming down, Eirik dove forward, towards the troll and the archway beyond it. He hit the floor hard, sliding beneath the troll's swing. The club smashed into the crack he'd just left, breaking ice.

  Eirik rushed to his feet past the troll, now standing between it and the buzzing ice net.

  The troll roared, spinning on the slick floor. It saw Eirik standing near the ward and charged again, angry, focused on crushing the intruder.

  Now or never. Eirik stood his ground for a part of a second, forcing the troll to do its charge. Then, at the last instant, he threw himself sideways, towards the wall, away from the net's path.

  The worker troll couldn't correct. It crashed into the beating ice net.

  CRACKLE-ZZZZT!

  A flash of energy burst out as the troll hit the ward. The ice net's the threads tightened around the troll. A choking sound coming from its throat as the energy tore through. Smoke rose from its hide, the stench of burnt flesh filling the tunnel. It slammed backward onto the black ice floor.

  HISSSSS! The frost spikes burst out again, stabbing the shaking troll from below. The creature gave one final shudder and went still. However, the beating light became much dimmer. The brute force weakened it!

  Eirik didn't hesitate. He went around the edge of the black ice floor, avoiding the spikes still pulling back, and came near the net. Where the troll had hit, several threads were broken or hanging loose. He could see through the gap.

  Taking a breath, he ]ducked and pushed his body through the opening the troll'd created, pulling back as his cloak touched against the buzzing ice threads. A jolt of shock made his shoulder numb, but nothing worse. He was through.

  The passage opened into a vast cavern.

  Eirik stopped, amazed despite the danger.

  The cavern was beautiful. Stalactites and stalagmites of glowing ice met in twisting columns. Frost patterns curled across every surface, cut deep into the ice and stone, beating with light. The source of it all ruled the chamber's center.

  A crystal pillar, roughly the height of a man, pushed upwards from the floor. Power flowed within its core – lines of light moved through it. Cold came out from it in waves, frosting Eirik's eyelashes and cutting deep even through the Skyfrost Cloak. The Crystal Source.

  But it wasn't not protected.

  Between Eirik and the crystal, cut into the floor in detailed, glowing lines of energy, lay another ward. This one was huge, covering a circular area thirty feet across. Spirals fromed a fancy, circles inside circles pattern centered on the crystal itself. It beat with a rhythm.

  Eirik came near, stopping at the ward's shining edge. He scanned the glowing lines. How do I break it? He had no mana to probe it. He needed something he could lose.

  He picked up an icicle from the cavern wall. He tossed it towards the center of the ward pattern.

  The moment the icicle crossed the edge of the glowing lines, the entire pattern lit up. A beam of frost energy screamed from the nearest rune group, striking the icicle mid-air. It turned to gas into a puff of frozen mist. The beam pulled back as quickly as it had appeared.

  Frost Giants' balls… That energy beam would turn him into an ice sculpture. Direct approach can't be done.

  He circled the ward, looking for weaknesses, changes in the pattern, anything. The how hard it is was amazing. He saw symbols that might show anchors, boosters, power sources. Yorick might figure this out… but Yorick isn't here. He was alone. With no magic. Against a can't be done puzzle.

  He tried another angle. He threw a rock at a different rune group near the edge. CRACK! Another frost beam lanced out, turning the rock to gas. He tried tossing ice near the crystal base. Same result. He tried moving faster, going around the edge of the pattern – the ward lit up, energy gathering, forcing him back. Every attempt met with the same deadly response. No blind spots. Just too much, automatic breaking. It's a fort.

  Minutes passed, each one a forever. Panic began to edge in. They're dying outside. The shaman will realize… He had to risk the Frostfire. Blow a hole. Hope the shaman didn't arrive. Hope the blast didn't bury him or destroy the crystal.

  Then, the sound he'd feared echoed through the cavern entrance tunnel. Not a worker troll's shuffle, but a shriek of rage that shook the ice beneath his feet. A shriek that carried fury.

  It's coming.

  Eirik spun, drawing the Fenrir blade. His back was to the crystal ward. The shaman filled the cavern entrance.

  The creature seemed taller inside its holy place. Its hide beat with red light, mixing with the chamber's blue glow. Its black eyes, burning with hatred, locked onto Eirik. It raised its staff, the crystals at its tip blazing.

  It's going to destroy me from range.

  The shaman's staff lit up. A bolt of frost energy, far larger and faster than the ward's beams, screamed towards Eirik's chest.

  Eirik moved. He didn't try to move away sideways. He threw himself backwards into a dive, aiming his body towards the edge of the glowing ward pattern behind him. He hit the floor hard, sliding, twisting his torso as he did so.

  WHOOOOOSH-CRACK!

  The shaman's bolt missed his head by inches. It struck the floor where he'd stood… just outside the ward's edge. Ice exploded, showering Eirik's form with pieces.

  The shaman shrieked again, angry at the miss. It changed its grip, crystals lighting up anew. Eirik rushed to his knees, staying close to the ward's shining edge. He needed it as a shield.

  Another bolt screamed out. Eirik twisted to his left, pushing off the ground. WHOOOOOSH-CRACK! The bolt cut a trench in the ice floor, passing through the space his torso had been in a moment before. He felt the wind of its going by, the cold that promised death. He landed hard, rolling, his shoulder slamming against a stalagmite.

  Too close! That was too close!

  The shaman moved forward a step, hunting him. Its confidence was clear. It had him trapped. It raised its staff for a third shot, taking its time, aiming.

  Now! Eirik thought. He timed it. As the shaman released the bolt, Eirik threw himself sideways along the edge of the ward, towards the point where the bolt was aimed.

  WHOOOOOSH-CRACK!

  The bolt passed through the space Eirik had just left… and this time, its path carried it across the glowing edge line of the ward.

  ZAAAAPPP!

  The reaction was instant and terrible. The ward lit up bright. Not just one, but three ice-blue beams, thicker than Eirik's body and crackling with power, burst out from different rune groups. They came together not on Eirik, but on the going in frost bolt.

  CRRRRAAAAAAACK-KOOOM!

  The crash was very loud. Energy exploded in an explosion of blue and red light. Pieces of ice flew outwards. The cavern shook. Stalactites fell from the ceiling, smashing on the floor. The patterns on the walls blinked. The entire ward lit up and beat with shaky energy.

  It worked! Eirik felt happy, shielding his face from the flying pieces. It targeted its own attack! The ward is weakened! Where the shaman's bolt had crossed, the lines were burned black, cracked and sparking.

  The shaman stumbled back from the kickback wave. It held tight its staff. Its eyes, wide with shock, stared at the ward, then back at Eirik, now rising to his feet near the broken section. Hatred burned hotter than ever.

  Eirik saw it. It won't risk firing into the ward again. It wants me dead, but not at the cost of its crystal. He had a window. He faked towards the cracked section of the ward, raising his sword as if testing it.

  The shaman reacted. Giving up ranged attacks, it roared and charged, crossing the distance in big steps, its staff raised like a club, aimed to smash Eirik against the cavern wall. It wouldn't risk its magic near the broken ward; it would crush him by force.

  Eirik met the charge. He stood his ground until the last moment, the shaman's shadow covering him. The staff screamed down.

  Now.

  He dropped low, not away from the blow, but under it. He rolled forward, between the shaman's legs. The staff slammed into the cavern wall behind where he'd stood with a CRUNCH, sending ice pieces flying.

  Eirik came up behind the shaman, spun, and slashed at the back of its knee with the Fenrir blade. CLANG! The sword slid off thick ice-armor hardened by the shaman's magic. It felt like hitting stone.

  The shaman spun with speed for its size, swinging its staff back of hand in an arc. Eirik brought his sword up in a block.

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  CLANG-SHATTER!

  The force of the blow knocked the Fenrir blade from Eirik's hands. It flew through the air, making noise against a stalagmite yards away. Eirik was thrown backwards by the impact, slamming hard into the cavern wall. Stars exploded behind his eyes. Pain lanced through his ribs. The air was driven from his lungs. He slid down the wall, dazed.

  The shaman stood big over him, blocking out the blue light. Winning shone in its black eyes. It raised its staff again, the crystals lighting up, ready to deliver the final blow.

  Eirik hand shot to his storage ring. His fingers closed around cold, smooth ice – a Frostfire flask.He ripped it out. His other hand felt around at his belt, finding the flint striker he kept for bad times. Flick. Flick. Flick! Sparks flew in the dim light.

  The shaman saw the object in his hand. Knowing blinked – it had seen Frostfire outside. It hesitated for the smallest part of a second, its mind thinking about the new threat.

  "STOP!" Eirik roared. "THIS ONE HITS THE WARD! YOUR CRYSTAL!!"

  Understanding dawned in the shaman's eyes, replaced by fury. It saw the flask threatening the wholeness of its ward and its precious crystal, and hesitated.

  That hesitation was all Eirik needed.

  He jumped at an angle across the cavern floor, away from the ward's edge, heading towards the spot where his Fenrir blade had been knocked.

  The shaman, realizing the trick, whipped its head back towards Eirik.

  But Eirik was already diving. His fingers closed around the handle of the Fenrir blade. He rolled behind a thick stone spike just as a bolt of ice screamed past, blasting a hole where he'd been kneeling.

  Eirik ignored the pain from ice pieces hiting his back, and burst from behind the stone spike, sword raised, but he didn't charge the shaman. Instead, he ran alongside the ward's edge.

  The shaman tracked him. It raised its staff. It would risk the crystal's closeness now; nothing mattered but his death.

  Eirik turned sharply, running directly towards the shaman, sword held low. It was a deadly charge. The shaman planted its feet, staff coming up, crystals blazing as it gathered energy for a close blast.

  Ten feet away. Five.

  Eirik threw himself sideways into a slide, sliding across the icy floor directly beneath the shaman's guard. He wasn't aiming for the creature itself. He was aiming for its shadow – the spot directly behind its feet.

  He slid past the shaman's legs, its staff swept overhead, missing him by inches. He crashed to a stop half-sprawled on the ice, barely outside the ward's edge, right behind the shaman. He was facing its back.

  He got up quickly and slammed his entire body weight against it.

  The shaman, thrown forward by its missed strike and the force from behind, stumbled forward. One step, two step... it struggled for balance as clawed foot came down…

  Right onto the glowing blue line marking the edge of the ward pattern.

  ZAAAAPPP!

  The reaction was terrible. The entire ward, already weakened, exploded. Dozens of ice-blue spears of frost energy, thicker than Eirik's body and crackling with cold, screamed out from multiple rune clusters. They came together on the source of entering life force that had broken the ward's boundary: the Ice Troll Shaman.

  It had time for one gurgling scream of terror and pain.

  The beams struck it at the same time – chest, back, legs. Its flesh froze quickly and exploded into a cloud of steaming gore. The staff snapped like a twig. Chunks of frozen guts rained down onto the cavern floor, steaming where they landed on the ward's glowing lines. A wave of force and cold blasted outwards, slamming Eirik back against the cavern wall hard enough to make stars explode behind his eyes again.

  Only its head remained.

  Eirik forced himself to his feet, leaning against the cavern wall. Stumbling, ignoring the pain from his body, Eirik went to where the head was.

  "Goodbye, witch," he said, touching the head, and willed it inside his storage ring.

  He then moved backwards, willed a Frostfire flask – his last one – from his ring. He lit the wick with the flint striker, aimed it at the most damaged, sparking section of the ward pattern. The flask curved through the air and landed in the center of the cracked runes near where the shaman had been turned to mist.

  CRACK-FOOM!

  The blast wasn't as big as the shaman's destruction, but it was final. With a final sputter, the remaining light in the ward went out.

  Finally. Eirik reached the base of the crystal pillar. Suspended within its heart, was the source he had felt since entering the mountains.

  It was larger than he'd imagined. Each pulse sent ripples of cold through the pillar and out into the cavern. This was the heart of the shaman's power. The key to his ascension.

  He placed both palms against the surface. Ignoring the bite of the cold, he poured his will inward.

  Raw mana, sharp and focused like a chisel, slammed into the pillar where it touched the Heart within.

  CRACK!

  A fracture split the ice from the core outwards, radiating like lightning through the pillar. Eirik poured more will into the fracture point.

  CRACK! CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!

  Webs of fractures exploded across the pillar's surface.

  CRUNCH!

  The pillar imploded. Shards of ice exploded outwards in a hail. Eirik threw up an arm, wincing as ice fragments peppered his cloak and skin. The Crystal of the Frozen Heart floated freed from its prison, radiating frost energy.

  He snatched it from the air.

  GAAAAH!

  Frost flooded his meridians. His body seized. His vision whited out, replaced by swirling fractals of blue and black ice. He felt his blood freeze.

  But he had no choice.

  The crystal dissolved. He felt the reservoir of Mana Fragments drain away in a torrent.

  Then the transformation hit.

  It wasn't like advancing through Snow Ranks. This felt like his existence was being dismantled atom by atom and reassembled in a glacier's heart.

  Cold poured into his bones, marrow, blood. His thoughts seemed to slow, crystallizing in frost. His heartbeat hammered once, twice, then slowed... slowed... threatening to stop.

  Hold! Hold on! This is the threshold!

  His core—the pulsing center of cold mana in his chest—imploded. It collapsed into a point of cold. Then it detonated outwards.

  Where Snow mana was sharp shards and wind, Frost mana felt like mercury—dense, heavy, powerful, and cold. It flooded his reforged meridians like a tsunami.

  Fifty units! Five slots! The potential staggered him.

  Frost Shaper? Before he could focus, a wave crashed over him—not pain, but pressure. Pressure, as if a glacier's weight settled onto his spirit.

  And then... stillness.

  Stillness. The cold receded, replaced by calm. The energy settled into a thrum. He felt anchored. Solid. Like the mountain's bedrock.

  His senses sharpened. He could hear frost crackling on stone, smell troll scents beyond the barrier, feel vibrations through his boots.

  He opened his eyes.

  Twenty stat points. And a new Ability: Frost Shaper.

  He focused on it.

  Manipulate existing ice. The implications hit. The cave walls. The barrier itself. The ice armor on trolls. All within his command.

  But first, the stat points.

  Intelligence governed mana control, regeneration, and Frost Shaper precision. Agility meant speed—speed to react, dodge, kill before being killed. Strength translated to force, critical against trolls.

  Intellect first. Enhanced control was paramount.

  He glanced at the empty space where the pillar had been. Frost energy pulsed from the point of extraction, lashing the cavern walls like a serpent. But the cavern was collapsing, destabilized by the absence of its core.

  He needed out. Now.

  ————————————————

  Leif's world had shrunk to the shaking ice beneath his boots.

  "They're… they're not stopping!" Goran reloaded his crossbow with shaking hands. A bolt from below thunked into the ice wall inches from his head, showering him with crystals. He flinched. "Look at them! The one with the bolt in its eye… it just keeps coming!"

  Leif risked a glance over the wall. Goran was right. One troll warrior, blood streaming from a dozen bolt wounds, its left eye socket ruined with a shaft sticking out, ignored the pain. It bellowed, red froth coating its tusks, and brought its club down again on the broken ice support.

  "The Commander…" Yorick's voice was a whisper behind the shield wall. "He went in. He has to be…"

  "Shut it, bookworm!" Olaf snapped. "He'll do his part! We do OURS! Bjorn! Loose!"

  A shower of bolts and rocks rained down. One found a gap in the ice-armor of a troll's shoulder, causing a roar more of annoyance than pain. It did little than it should.

  "Left side's giving way!" Harkin screamed from below, where men braced against the rock face supporting the shield wall ledge. "We need men off! NOW!"

  "No one moves!" Leif commanded. "Hold position! We break, we're all dead!" He knew the moment they left the high ground and cover, the trolls would overrun them in the open ground. But the ice couldn't hold.

  Commander, Leif thought, sweat freezing on his brow despite the cold. Where are you? We're breaking

  CRRRRAAAAACK-KABOOM!

  The sound was like the mountain screaming. The broken left front support of the ice platform, hammered, gave way. A section, a quarter of the structure, broke off with a groan of tearing ice and broken magic. Four Talons – crossbowmen who moments before had been firing – vanished with screams, falling onto the slope below.

  "NO!" Leif's scream tore from his throat. He saw their shocked eyes for a split second before the falling ice swallowed them. Horror washed over the remaining defenders. The platform tilted, throwing men off their feet. The wall on the collapsed section crumbled. The killing ground below was exposed.

  "Up! Get up!" Olaf bellowed, hauling a dazed Talon to his feet. "Shields! SPEARS IF YOU HAVE 'EM! HERE THEY COME!"

  Below, the trolls, sensing victory, let out a roar. The one-eyed horror leading the charge plowed through, raised its club raised high for the slaughter.

  "This is it," Leif thought. "We held as long as we could. Commander… I hope it was enough." He braced himself, ready to meet the club swinging towards his section of the crumbling wall.

  Thrum.

  The sound wasn't loud, but it echoed inside Leif's bones.

  The trolls froze.

  The red aura flickered around them like a dying candle, then went out. The rage in their eyes was gone, then a wave of pain rippled through their bodies as if they'd been gut-punched.

  The one-eyed troll leader staggered, the club dropping from its fingers and slammed into the snow. The Frostfire-burned trolls collapsed onto the ice. Every troll warrior shook and screamed.

  "The aura… it's gone. The shaman..." Understanding slammed into Leif. "HE DID IT! THE COMMANDER KILLED THE SHAMAN!"

  A cheer erupted from the Talons. They saw the terror in the trolls' eyes, saw them staggering, clutching wounds, looking for escape.

  "PUSH! FORWARD! DON'T LET THEM REGROUP!"

  Talons found their targets with vigor. Bolts slammed into exposed backs as trolls tried to flee. Frostfire bombs arced down, exploding amidst the panicking giants, cutting off retreats.

  Without their shaman's will or magic, they were just big, scared animals.

  Eirik stood over the cave entrance, breathing deeply.

  Most trolls were down. A few that had emerged last were milling in panic, trying to retreat towards the large cave.

  They're routed. But they mustn't regroup underground.

  He saw a frozen pillar near the edge of the ritual ground – ten feet tall, thick as a tree trunk, coated in ice.

  Frost Shaper. That's mine.

  Eirik raised a hand, palm facing the pillar. He poured Frost Mana into it, willing it to shatter. He focused on its center of gravity, its weakest points identified by his enhanced Frost senses.

  [MANA EXPENDED: 8]

  [MANA: 42/50]

  [ABILITY: FROST SHAPER ACTIVATED]

  A CRACK. Fractures webbed across the pillar's surface. Then, with a sound like breaking glass amplified a thousand times, the structure exploded.

  WHOOSH-THUNK-THUNK-CRUNCH!

  The shrapnel storm ripped through the panicked trolls. Shards punched through thick hide, impaled limbs, shredded faces. Dark blood bloomed on white fur. A troll took a shard through its chest and collapsed without a sound. Another stumbled screaming, clutching its face. A worker troll was torn apart.

  The destruction was horrific.

  The surviving trolls who hadn't been shredded turned tail and fled, abandoning their wounded, scrambling for the dark cave, howling in terror. They left behind a slaughterhouse littered with broken bodies and whimpering wounded.

  CRUMPH-BOOOOOM!

  The roar ripped through the battlefield, shaking snow from peaks.

  The large cave entrance vomited a plume of dust. The ground under Eirik's boots vibrated. He staggered, then burst into full-speed running towards safety. Across the ritual ground, Talons stumbled, grabbing onto rocks or each other.

  "What in Frost's name—?" Leif gasped, whipping his head towards the cave.

  CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!

  Splintering sounds echoed from within the collapsing cave, followed by the shriek of tearing rock. Then, a final RUUUMMMMBLLLLEEE that faded into stillness.

  ? Elder's Chosen: Chains of the Beastborn [VRMMO, LITRPG, ISEKAI, KINGDOM BUILDING] ?

  by Bobby Robinson

  Elders Chosen explores themes of grief, identity, and survival in a world shaped by oppression, war, and myth. While not explicit, this story contains scenes of emotional trauma, slavery, and violence. Reader discretion advised.