The Frozen Queen and the False Hero. [Mizore and Kakeru]

Over the vast terrains and climates of the human realm, there was an endless differentiation when it came to what one could find when looking for a place to settle down. There were expansive, sweeping deserts. Blistering, uncomfortable, and uninhabitable to most. There were gargantuan, empty plains of ice. Harsh and lethal to the uninitiated. There were vast cities above water, giant hidden bases under water. Teeming with life and buzzing with the activity of the various groups and citizens with unique views, causes, and interests that occupied them.

So.. with so many choices.. how could one possibly be expected to decide?

The real question is...

Why decide at all?

This was the thought process that led to the creation of intruding and out of place structure currently dominating the center of the Amazon Rainforest. Normally, the Amazon was a murky and humid place. Tropically warm, and equally humid. The very air seemed to stick to your very skin, and despite all the moisture in the air, the conditions made it exceptionally easy to get dehydrated. The trees of this forest stretched high into the air, the canopies blanketing the sky above and making navigating by the sun's position nigh impossible. Food was scarce, and hidden among the different poisons and such that impersonated the few edible things within the terrain. Besides, if the natural causes didn't get to you, the wildlife would. The forest has adapted to noting foreign presences, quickly and systematically eliminating them as they came.

Unless... you found a way around this.

With time, and effort, a large clearing was made in the exact middle of the rainforest was made. From the center of that clearing, a tower began to emerge. Then another, then another... until finally, a variable fortress had emerged. A monolithic colossus of architecture and engineering. This fortress was made, not from stone or metal, but from ice. The fortress seemed impenetrable. No cracks, no flaws, no weak points in the design.. it was a perfect build. An awe-inspiring marvel of construction, despite the fragile nature of ice itself.

No one exemplified that duality in its essence better than the creator of said fortress: Mizore Chikara.

The girl, relatively young compared to some other souls you might see, stood at only five feet and one inch in height. She was slim, and frail-looking, and dressed to match, wearing baggy shirts that seemed to utterly dwarf her torso and usually skirts that showed off her legs, and the shortness thereof. Her trimmed, blue hair framed her pale face, and her arms hung idly at her sides. Any being who saw her without knowing her would think her to be just an average, albeit scrawny, girl. A being who couldn't possibly pose much of a threat, especially going by the fact that she appeared to not output any spiritual pressure whatsoever.

But, like her home made of ice, this was all a facade.

Underneath the frailty was a woman who had spent decades of her life planning, fighting, training, and working simply to make sure that she would never be bested. To make sure she was perfectly capable of matching any and all opponents who might meet her in battle. To make sure she would follow the footsteps of those who attempted before her to bring down the corruption and the cruelty at the very heart of the spiritual world.. Only with one alteration. She, unlike them, would not fail.
Her blue eyes held only daggers for those around her. She had but one equal, one exception. Everyone else was regarded as lesser. As inferior. As vermin. This had always been her code. If you weren't worthy of her time, you weren't worthy of being regarded as a sentient being beyond the scum of the very earth itself.

It was for this reason, among others, that Mizore chose such a secluded place for such an unlikely addition. Very few trekked into the density of the Amazon, and fewer still made it longer than a day before returning out of fear, or succumbing to the lethality of the jungle itself. It was the perfect spot for a secluded hideaway, a reclusive safe haven in the middle of a strategic hell for one who had too much riding on her own safety, and the safety of her family, to risk them anywhere else besides the safest possible place for them.

And although this place was made to be free from other beings, regardless of race or purpose, unless Mizore invited them...

It seemed on this day... they had a small vermin problem...

Mizore had felt the spiritual pressure of the being as soon as it had entered. The walls of her palace were good for that, if nothing else. Much like sound echoes in an acoustic room, so too does a spiritual signature echo through the halls of her castle.

She walked slowly, methodically, as if each and every step was planned and pre-meditated.. As if the smallest slip would compromise her whole position, and put herself in danger. This may have very well been the case, in fact. With a soft sigh, Mizore slipped her left hand into the pocket of her skirt, her right hand dangling idly by her side as she stepped into the entryway to the main hall, stopping before turning her whole body to the side to face the interloper, seeming to glide over the ground as she took a few more steps forward. Her every action radiated with forethought and grace, and as she stopped moving, there was but ten yards of distance left between herself and the invader.

Slowly, her head tilted to the side, her piercing gaze focusing directly on the man in front of her, observing him silently as her mouth moved slowly, the only sound in the room being the echoing “clack” of the lollipop currently in Mizore's mouth knocking against her teeth, the stick protruding from the side of her lips. Without but a word, Mizore let out a sigh, the walls of the ice fortress behind her seeming to.. change and shift..

And so they were.. And even as Mizore's head returned to its upright position, a multitude, seemingly exponential, of icy spikes began forming on the walls behind her, each and every one pointing their sharp and fatal points directly at the pest before her. Mizore's gaze cast upward for a single moment as the temperature of the room began to drastically decrease, far below what was survivable for a human, or even those of low power among the spiritual, all of this happening without Mizore's spiritual energy so much as spiking. However.. it seemed this particular bug was neither human, nor powerless, as the cold didn't seem to do as much as Mizore had hoped. Instead of attempting anything else for the moment, Mizore simply let her left hand fall out of her pocket, hanging next to her in the same fashion as her right, as her gaze returned to the vermin who had found her home this day.

“Who.. are you? And why are you here? Answer quickly, before I perform my right as defender of this household and extinguish your miserable existence....” She asked slowly, softly, her voice not raising nor intensifying. There was a chilling, sinister air to her gentle tone.. Anyone with a sense of perception could easily tell that there was just something.. off about it. Even as Mizore finished her questions, she gestured around herself at the various statues that decorated the room. Each one was different. Some were dressed in robes, others in civilian clothing, others still stuck in some demonic or animalistic form. Although they all shared one similarity.. the realism in their design, and the look of absolute horror on the face of each and every one of them.

“..And before you answer, consider that each and every one of the sculpted masterpieces you see before you is one such as yourself. An insect who overstepped their boundaries to seek combat, or living territory, or reprieve from some enemy unknown to me. If you are here for any of these reasons.. I assure you, the same fate will befall you as well. So choose your words delicately..” She finished, her icy tone seeming to translate into the very atmosphere, as the temperature dropped even further, well below zero at this point.