Chapter 143. Survival Young Lady

In survivalist circles, there exists a legendary feat known as the “Nozawa Challenge.”

This world-renowned adventure was accomplished between 2068 and 2097 by the Japanese survivalist Kiyoshi Nozawa, and it involved conquering every magical terrain scattered across the globe.

The rules are simple:

Wear ordinary (non-magic) clothing, carry only a single knife, and travel alone from the edge of a magic terrain—formed by a great magic disaster—all the way to its epicenter. No water, no food, no wand allowed.

Once there, plant your country’s flag, then escape back out of the magical terrain.

All of this must be done solo, within seven days.

In other words, you must survive—with nothing but a knife—in extreme, deadly environments where even fully equipped expeditions can suffer casualties.

And not just once.

Nozawa, one of the greatest survivalists of the 21st century, conquered all 32 known magical terrains at the time using nothing but a knife.

Once might be madness.
Twice, extraordinary luck.
Thirty-two times turned an unknown man into a global legend no one could replicate.

Nozawa was just a normal human—neither a mutant nor a demon. Even though he took 29 years with careful preparation and recovery periods, his achievement remains unprecedented. Anyone aspiring to be a survivalist knows his name.

Fifteen years have passed since Nozawa’s era, and survival theory has advanced.

Yet every seasoned survivalist who attempted to follow in his footsteps has failed, crumbling before an impossibly high barrier. The “Nozawa Challenge,” the ultimate goal for elite survivalists, is also a gateway to hell.

Roderick Hillary, born and raised in Denver, Colorado—ground zero of the Demon King disaster at the foot of the Rocky Mountains—was one such survivalist.

Having grown up in the wilderness, firing gun-wands, Roderick made his fortune in his twenties by publishing accounts of his Australian expeditions.

In his thirties, he began the Nozawa Challenge.

In just three years, he cleared six locations: “Ocean God’s Maelstrom,” “Inverted Volcano,” “Eternal Darkness Plains,” “Mist of No Return,” “Radiant Highway,” and “Starvation Desert.” Now, he was en route by airship to tackle his seventh during the summer.

To Roderick, survival was the ultimate test and proof of oneself.

To survive the harshest lands on Earth with nothing but a knife—this alone proved true strength.

Powerful wands and armor? That’s just equipment.
Teamwork? That’s relying on others.

Only by overcoming trials alone could one prove their unadulterated worth.

Which is why, as he crawled out of a crashing, burning airship carrying a young girl in his arms, his first thought was:

This is going to be trouble…

“Sir, you possess admirable moral character. Thank you for saving me.”

“…Yeah. You’re welcome.”

The girl, about ten years old and wrapped in an obviously expensive fur coat, staggered in the blizzard yet still managed an elegant curtsy.

The airship had crashed in the middle of Wendigo Mountain, a magic terrain in North America formed by a runaway glacial spell. Snow and ice dominated the region year-round, with constant blizzards.

Roderick had planned to stay in a nearby town and wait for a brief summer heatwave to attempt his crossing.

In hindsight, he should’ve trusted his instincts when a noble-looking young lady boarded the civilian airship with a group of black-suited guards.

Wealthy people who didn’t use dragon courier services always had complications.

An hour into the flight, explosions, screams, and incantations filled the ship.

He never learned what exactly happened.

All he knew was that the airship crashed in flames—and only two survived: the girl, protected by the bodies of her guards, and himself, cushioned by improvised padding.

He didn’t need details.

He had been dragged into some deadly conspiracy surrounding a rich noble girl.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ainsel Stewart. May I have your name?”

“…Roderick.”

Her crisp Queen’s English made it clear—this golden-haired, blue-eyed girl was from British high society.

Unlucky.

He had been thrown into a deadly magic terrain—with baggage.

As the wreck burned behind them, filling the air with the stench of charred flesh and blood, Roderick forced himself to stay calm and assess the situation.

First priority: survival.

He knew Wendigo Mountain well enough. Escaping alone wasn’t impossible.

But what were the odds?
1% and 99% both counted as “possible.”

He needed a realistic estimate.

As Nozawa said:
“Survival is the management of magical energy.”

Magic could become fire, water, weapons, or armor. Used wisely, it meant life. Wasted foolishly, it meant death.

Roderick had 20K magic.

Enough—if used carefully.

But what about the girl trailing behind him?

“Roderick, what are you doing?”

“Gathering resources. How much magic do you have?”

“20K. I’m a fourth-year at the Magic Academy.”

Calm, composed—far beyond her age.

Better than panic, at least.

But still… 40K total between them felt dangerously insufficient.

“I’m glad you’re here, Roderick. I’m not accustomed to this sort of situation. Please escort me to town.”

“…………”

He held his head.

She wasn’t calm—she just didn’t understand the danger.

She was used to being served, never imagining a world where that didn’t apply.

He made his decision.

She wouldn’t survive.

And she’d get him killed too.

“Ainsel. I’m going to scout for more supplies. Wait here an hour. Then we’ll figure out how to descend together.”

“Oh? You’re not very good at lying, are you? Your face clearly says ‘abandon.’ Do you struggle at tea parties?”

Roderick froze.

She saw right through him.

She lacked survival skills—but had the instincts to survive aristocratic society.

The exact opposite of him.

“…No. I’ll be back in an hour. Just stay here.”

“Very well. Then let’s make a deal. If you escort me safely, I’ll reward you with whatever you desire. One hundred million dollars—two hundred million—anything.”

“That’s…”

She smiled and slipped a luxurious ring into his hand.

“Consider this a deposit. It was made by one of our finest craftsmen.”

“…Vacuum silver?”

“With a magic gemstone—Merlin Diamond.”

He swallowed.

Tempting.

The Nozawa Challenge required immense time and money. Injuries, travel, research—it all added up.

A noble sponsor could change everything.

But only if he survived.

After long deliberation, he asked:

“Be honest. When we reach town… will those people attack again?”

“Impossible. They failed here—it’s over. Though my father may be furious enough to feed them to slimes. If you protect me, you might even be granted knighthood.”

“…Alright. I’ll do it. But you follow my orders. All of them.”

“Of course. I leave myself in your care, Sir Knight.”

She extended her hand.

Not for a handshake—but for a kiss.

With a wry smile, Roderick knelt in the snow and kissed the back of her hand.

Thus began their descent.

Their first act: burying her fallen guards.

Because she insisted.

Breaking their agreement immediately.

“You’re a damn pain, you spoiled brat!”

“This is the pride of a damn noble, I’m afraid.”

And so, reluctantly, Roderick began teaching her survival as they descended.

“Take them off!”

“I refuse! These shoes were a gift from my grandmother!”

“You can’t walk in heels on snow, idiot!”

Later, he discovered she had stuffed her coat with useless items—cosmetics, trinkets—and exploded in anger.

Their first day, they encountered an A-rank monster.

A massive white wolf.

“What is that enormous beast?!”

“Don’t move. Don’t speak. Pray it’s full.”

“And if it’s hungry?”

“Then we die.”

They had come within arm’s reach of the A-rank monster—close enough to feel its breath—and yet somehow survived. Before nightfall, the two hastily built a small snow shelter.

Inside the cramped space, they huddled together, drank hot water warmed with fire magic, and soothed both their bodies and their utterly exhausted minds.

“I was thinking… wouldn’t using suspended animation magic have let us safely avoid that A-rank monster?” 

Ainsel asked.

“Hah. That’s the shallow thinking of someone who only uses their head,” 

Roderick snorted. 

“If we’d used that, we wouldn’t have had enough magic left to boil this water. Then we’d freeze to death. Am I wrong?”

“…You are not.”

“Then put something other than crap in that empty head of yours. Listen—survival is all about managing your magic. Learn when to use it.”

“I shall engrave that upon my heart.”

By the third day, hunger had reached its limit.

Roderick plunged his arm into a snow hollow and dragged out a winged, snake-like creature. Making the sign of the cross toward the heavens, he gave thanks.

“Oh Lord! Thank you for this modest blessing. I will waste not a drop of its blood.”

“Eugh… y-you’re going to eat that… that disgusting snake?” 

Ainsel recoiled.

“Watch your mouth, Lady Ainsel. It’s better than starving to death, isn’t it? Now—this is where you use your magic. Prepare a dish. First, chop it up—bones, skin, everything—into a fine mince. Then mix the stomach fluids and bile thoroughly into the meat. That’ll make it easier on your stomach. We don’t have time to let it age, so we’ll eat it raw. If your stomach starts acting up, use healing magic right away.”

“Ugh… I think I’m going to be sick. I can’t—this is impossible!”

“If you can’t, you die. Eat. You don’t want to die, do you?”

At first, Roderick had planned to abandon Ainsel when things got truly dire.

But while she complained constantly and voiced her fears, she never once shed tears—and never once gave up on living.

She was a delicate, sheltered noble girl… but she had stubborn grit.

Even so…

No matter how much she managed to eat raw monster meat, she was still physically weak. Each day, the distance they could travel grew shorter.

On the fifth day, after barely making 200 meters, Ainsel finally collapsed.

Roderick himself was utterly exhausted. Not just physically—protecting someone else drained his mental strength as well.

The thought surfaced in his numb, hazy mind:

Leave her behind.

But instead, he lifted her up.

He dismantled his skis, tied the straps together, and fashioned a makeshift harness to carry her on his back.

At least she was light.

“…No, that’s a lie,” 

he muttered. 

“You’re heavy as hell, Lady Ainsel. Made of lead or something?”

“And yet… you still carry me,” 

she said faintly. 

“Honestly, I’m surprised.”

“How so?”

Her weak but warm breath brushed his neck as she spoke.

“I’ve learned a little about survival now. If you left me, you could descend easily, couldn’t you? Because of me, your life is in danger too…”

Roderick tightened her grip around his neck so she wouldn’t fall.

Then he said what he had been thinking for days.

“I used to think that conquering nature alone—with nothing—was the ultimate proof of strength.”

“…Yes…”

“No help. Just a knife. Proving my worth to myself. I thought that was the peak.”

“…Yes…”

“But I was wrong. That’s Nozawa’s way. I’ve found my own.”

He took a breath.

“It’s simple math. Surviving alone is one thing—but surviving with dead weight? That’s harder. One versus two. Twice as hard! If I get us both out of this hellhole, I’ll be twice as great as if I did it alone. You think I’d pass that up? No way.”

There was no reply.

But he could feel her smile.

Her small hands tightened around him, and with that strength, Roderick took another step down the mountain.

His legs trembled violently. Cold and exhaustion struck him at once.

His vision blurred—from snow and lack of sleep.

If he were alone, he’d be lighter. Faster. He might already be down the mountain.

But the only reason he could keep going now… was the undeniable weight of two people.

On the verge of losing consciousness, Roderick cast a strengthening spell.

Power surged through him—and at the same time, he knew: when this magic ran out, he’d have nothing left.

Still, he pressed on.

He scanned the horizon for the town’s spire.

Nothing.

No matter how far he went, there was only endless snow and ice.

The magic faded.

But his will did not.

One step.

Another.

One more—and then his strength gave out completely. He collapsed sideways into the snow.

The cold should have been biting—but he couldn’t feel it anymore.

No trembling. No resistance.

He had spent everything.

“Lady Ainsel… you alive?”

“Yes… I am.”

“See that thing in the sky?”

“…Yes. A damn dragon. It’s coming down.”

“You haven’t given up yet?”

“Never…!”

“I can’t move anymore. Take that ring from my pocket. Throw it far. Pray it goes after the treasure.”

If not… they would die.

He didn’t say it—but she understood.

Struggling free, Ainsel fumbled into his pocket.

She found the ring, kissed it softly, then drew her arm back to throw—

—and froze.

Her eyes widened.

For the first time, tears welled up.

Instead of throwing the ring away, she swung her arm toward the descending dragon.

Laughing through tears, she shook Roderick’s shoulder.

“It bears my family crest! Help has come!”

He tried to answer—but his tongue wouldn’t move.

Instead, tears streamed down his own face, melting the snow beneath him.

The dragon landed, sending snow flying and heat rushing outward.

As Roderick lay there, wrapped in relief, he heard Ainsel running lightly across the snow—and then her voice, filled with joy:

“Damn, I missed you so much, you damn father!”

“…!?”

Roderick felt the blood drain from his face.

Teaching her survival skills was one thing—

—but he’d taught her his foul mouth too.

He tried to explain—but his body wouldn’t move.

As cold sweat broke out, a large, refined man with a strong build and elegant perfume lifted him up.

The man’s voice, laced with anger, spoke in flawless Queen’s English:

“You will not die. You will tell me—what you did to my daughter, and who you are.”

“…I’m just… a survivalist…”

Murmuring weakly, Roderick lost consciousness as warm healing magic enveloped him.

Praying, in his fading thoughts, that the furious father wouldn’t tear apart the “bad influence” who had corrupted his daughter.

And thus, the survival tale of a noble young lady and a survivalist came to an end.