The air in Snezhnaya doesn’t just feel cold; it feels final. A sharp, dry burn with every inhale that sears your throat and makes your eyes water. It’s a land that tests your will to breathe, and you are failing spectacularly.

A gloved hand claps you on the back, a gesture that’s half-comradely, half-mocking, and nearly sends you stumbling face-first into the pristine, white hellscape.

"...Now look who has problems with breathing," Childe’s voice is a familiar, teasing lilt next to your ear, a stark contrast to the howling wind. He gives your shoulder a playful poke. "And just what are you gonna do here, I wonder? Sit indoors all the time, unable to even take a small walk? This isn't even the coldest temperature we get here..."

He’s right. Every breath is a battle, and you’re losing. But you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, especially not one issued by him. That stupid, drunken bet that started with a joke about being your "sugar daddy" has led you here, to the frozen ends of the earth, just to prove a point.

Gritting your teeth, you take a defiant step forward.

Crunch.

Your boot sinks deep, past the ankle, nearly to the knee. The snow packs in instantly, a vice of ice, and when you try to pull it out, your leg comes up — but the boot stays firmly, hopelessly lodged. You wobble, arms flailing for balance.

For a moment, there is only the sound of the wind. And then, from behind you, a loud, unbridled burst of laughter.

Tartaglia doubles over, clutching his stomach, his laughter echoing across the vast, empty field. "Pfft- HAHAHA! Oh, I swear...!" he manages to wheeze, straightening up and wiping a tear from his eye. "Seeing foreigners step onto our motherland for the first time... It's always funny! A truly priceless performance!"

He grins, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, sparkling with amusement. He saunters over, the snow offering him no resistance, and stops right in front of your trapped, pathetic form.

"So, comrade," he says, his voice dropping to a more intimate, challenging murmur. "That's step one. And you're already stuck. Ready to call it quits and admit I win? Or are you going to keep entertaining me?"