CH2

Zack worked most of the day, freeing a helmet, filling it with ice from outside, and boiling it. Once he dumped the first batch, he repeated his actions. Helmets filled with cooling water sat in a corner. It was his only source of water.

He studied some of the conquests of the Aztec Empire in the past. The conquistadors wrapped their wounds in human fat.

Zack soaked some old cloth in boiling fat and then wrapped his hands.

That was hours ago.

He checked his status.

There was no way.

Mass: 3,958

Was it the fat or the ice? What was he burning to get so much spiritual mass? Should he burn all of the bodies? Zack shook his head. That was a bad idea. Smoke inhalation would kill him, or his soul would fracture from the mass.

Okay, if that was a no-go, should he compress? It would raise his density, but not by much. He could compress twice, but that wouldn't help a whole lot.

How long before the Wight Walker found him? How long before he had to resort to cannibalism? How long before he ran out of food and fuel before freezing to death?

Zack felt at the cusp of something with his flame but couldn't grasp it. It was frustrating and wonderful at once.

He reached out with his flame and felt it fill its hunger, helping distract him from his growing hunger.

He played with his flame for hours, waiting for the water to cool enough to drink. The water splashed on his face and ran down his chin as he chugged it. Zack tasted lots of iron, but it was water.

He felt his body shake and his stomach growl. With some water in him and some warmth, his hunger returned. The bodies weren't looking like food yet, but he knew it was a matter of time.

When would he give in?

Zack counted five helmets without leaks that he used to boil water.

He sat on a rock and stared at the door. That was another mystery. What was behind the door? Where are there more bodies? Could this chamber be one among hundreds or thousands?

Zack imagined 500,000 of these things rising fully dressed for war. What if this was only one cache among many? He didn't like that image.

If that were the case, Zack would have to burn all of them.

He raised his hand, and the flame leaped from the burning grease to his palm. It felt good to have the flame close to him.

Mass 5000

Zack wasn't sure when he planned it, but he guided his flame and began melting the handle. He didn't dare touch it with his hands wrapped in fat, whether he was a skeptic or a skeptic.

He watched the handle slowly melt away. Whether it was the fat or the ice, Zack didn't know. He eyed his mass only to watch the numbers rise.

Mass: 8000

Was he absorbing the magic by burning it and feeding on it with his soul? That would be badass if it were true. He concentrated his flame, increasing its heat. Blue light almost blinded him as the ice shrieked and broke down.

He relaxed his hold on his flame and saw that the ice was melted. He used the ax spike to push the handle's other side out.

The survivor gripped the hole where the lock had been and swung the door open.

…

Piles of weapons, armor, and other tools appeared under his flickering flame. More men stacked like ants clutching each other lined the walls several times the number of the first room. Frost covered the floor along with different doors. Seven new doors appeared in front of him.

Mass: 31,500

Those doors sure were valuable.

Zack smirked at the sight of moose stacked upon each other. The true north was nothing more than a Wight farm.

How was he supposed to stop an actual army as he was?

Even if he powered up tons, Zack was one man against armies of unknown numbers. His head could barely get around an army of hundreds. Thousands, tens of thousands, and millions were beyond his experience.

A single Wight Walker could lead millions. Eight thousand years was a long time.

Zack focused on what he could control. He picked out some warm clothes from the piles and some iron weapons. Then he reached the fallen half of the first door handle and melted it.

Mass: 50,000

Zack compressed.

Soul lvl4

Mass:5

Density: 4

Pressure: 2.4

Max output: 12

He felt weaker after losing mass, but his pressure was much greater.

Before, his potential max output had been 50,000, but if he had the same mass with his new pressure, his output would be 120,000 with the same mass.

He held his flame in the palm of his hand. Its orange glow illuminated the bandages, wrapping his hands with fat-soaked linen. Zack closed his hand on his flame and snuffed it out. He held out his empty hand. Small strings of pressure gathered on his palm and pushed together. Orange sparks ignited, and a new flame appeared. It was orange like the other but brighter.

The flame wanted to burn, and he wouldn't deny it. He cut off some more fat and started burning. Zack's new flame burned the fat slightly faster, and he felt something.

What was it?

Was it magic, matter, or some piece of soul? Zack heard that in Westeros, magic was all about blood. Would burning things that were once alive free up magic for his soul to absorb? He couldn't say for sure he would need to continue trying. Zack couldn't know that burning fat had no benefits for his soul.

It could be that he was burning ice magic within the fat. He didn't and couldn't know for sure.

He found a sharp iron knife and went to the new room. It was cold with his flame distant.

Mass: 9 

This place was a gift in disguise. Zack focused on the flame and mentally tallied how much mass pressure it took to maintain its current incarnation. One mass worth of pressure seemed to be needed for a flame to burn at 2.4 pressure. Every mass worth of pressure added increased the size and heat of the flame. 4.8 pressure doubled the flame's size and intensity, increasing its burning rate through fat.

He needed more mass; this move had been too dangerous. Maybe he should keep around 1000 Mass at all times. Getting back into the hundreds required more focus and strategy.

He piled grease on the ice layer leading to the first door. Then he burned it.

After creating a second flame and burning the fat, the room started to feel much warmer. He sighed and stared at the slowly melting ice.

Mass: 55

He tried to control himself. The survivor didn't want to attract attention. He wiped blood frozen blood from his hands and shivered before approaching one of the fires. The warmth was a godsend.

He found the least rotted moose and began slowly cutting from the animal. Zack's stomach woke up, and he grumbled at him to hurry, and he almost bit into the raw meat.

Zack had only been in the cave for a day, but it felt like a week. While he let the meat sizzle in a breastplate, he managed to turn it into a grill. He pulled rocks away from the entrance. The blizzard continued to rage outside. Zack filled a helmet with ice and covered the entrance again.

The meat didn't smell rotten, so that was a plus. He chose one that looked like it had been put there recently, which was concerning. Zack did not know when the Wight Walker would appear, so he could only strengthen himself.

…

Three days of eating unseasoned moose and drinking helmet water hadn't done him much good. He sat on one of the moose he managed to pry from the stack and stared at a burning stack of corpses.

Mass: 189,000

Zack wanted a million. He needed more power.

Slowly, he unwrapped one of his hands and stared at the bulging green pustules and icy cracks running through his skin. It seemed that wrapping his hands in fat enchanted by the Wight Walkers was a bad idea.

He had to work his hands with pressure to keep himself going. Zack stared at the knife he prepared on a table of hooves wrapped under a breastplate. It would do the job. He might save the rest of his arms if he cut both at the wrist.

More power might do the trick, but it does not matter much. Zack opened the entrance to ventilate the smoke. He burned as many as possible and sat in a corner, watching the smoke billow out.

Mass: 490,000 

The flames were hungry. Zack could feel them devour the Wight's flesh and the ice magic. He wasn't sure which it preferred more, but he would be done with 50 bodies in a few hours.

Who knew how long it took the Wight Walker who owned this cave to store so many bodies? He smiled because it felt like a slight win. One of their significant cashes was slightly depleted.

Mass: 990,0899

It was an hour later, and he still wasn't done burning the bodies. That felt good. How long would it be before the Wight Walkers noticed? Could he beat one in his current state?

Zack stood up, and the world spun. Yeah, it was hard to move. The infection was charging through his body.

Mass: 1,000,093

Zack smiled. Three whole levels were his. The Wight Walker wasn't here, but he wasn't worried. It was only a matter of time. In his palm, an iron stamp hovered under his pressure. The wind was something he was playing with. It was almost as easy to produce with pressure as fire. It only caused sudden temperature changes, forcing currents to move in specific directions.

Who knew where his soul talent would lead him?

Zack had no loyalty as an intensity. That meant no mind control, but he could still use the bind to stamp and sell defeated enemies. What he needed was lots and lots of points and healers.

So, it was time to compress.

He gripped the mass of his soul, the vast amount of power waiting for him to touch it. Zack pressed against it with his will, and his talent helped. Soul Talent helped him do it in a way that slowly improved his physical body with his soul pressure.

Maybe that's why he still had feelings in his hands.

Soul lvl7 

Mass: 1001 

Density: 7 

Pressure: 4.7

Max Output: 4,773

Once more, his pressure became pound-for-pound better than before. He doused the flames and made more, tossing them into the pyres and watching as the bodies burned faster. He was multiplying even if he was doomed.

Then, one of the bodies moved. Zack wasn't ready for it. He scrambled off his moose and fell in his furs as one of the wights slowly pulled itself out of the flames. Bodies were rigid to burn.

Mass: 1,139

Zack turned and saw glowing blue eyes and a beautiful pale face peeking through the entrance. It raised a staff of ice and pointed it at him. It said something, and he only heard crackling ice. What did it say?

The survivor imagined it was something like how the hell Zack ended up in his cave. He clenched his hand and watched the flames die in the cave, and the air immediately chilled. Zack shivered from the overwhelming cold of the blizzard and the Wight Walker.

He turned to see a second Wight Walker, this one with breasts peeking in. It spoke something with crackling ice, and the male said something to it. Zack opened his hand, and it lit brighter than before with fire. He could feel his hand ache from the heat disobeying the laws of physics and flowing into it.

Zack placed his other hand on the ground and nearly passed out from the pain as he put weight on his hand.

He needed help from a natural healer. He credits required first, and he had two fat bounties at the cave entrance. Zack made his way to his feet as a wight dove at him.

Zack thrust his hand out and unleashed his full pressure.

Flames flowed in every direction around him in a 20-foot perimeter. Why didn't the fire burn his skin? Zack thought that it should, but the flames only warmed him. It was a mystery, one of many about his powers.

The Wight was charcoal on the ground, sizzling and cracking. His hands were fine, too, except they were still very infected with blue veins and a horrible infection. More Wights charged him, only to burn up in their flames.

The clothes on his body weren't so lucky. They were on fire.

He pulled the flames and concentrated them at the edge of his skin. Zack took a step, and the fire returned to a billowing mess.

Mass: 32,000

Bodies had piled around him in his introspection. It was the cave. With the confinement, Zack turned the cave into a kilt, and the blizzard pushed fresh air in to raise the heat. More wights, this time armored up, ran out, and Zack stepped toward the Wight Walkers. The male raised his spear.

More ice demons hit him from behind, burning until they touched him and turned to ash.

Mass: 99,959

Zack's soul talent was telling him he was lucky as hell. He would also be happy if he didn't have an Intensity that reset him from universe to universe. Zack was bound to become powerful here, but it was utterly pointless when he received his next mission.

With more mass, he increased the intensity of the flames blasting off him. Wights became charcoal before they could get close enough to touch him. The Wight Walker lifted his spear and threw it at lightning speed. Zack felt it pierce his shoulder, and he screamed.

The flames continued to burn everything around him. Stone melted, and the spear buried in his shoulder melted slowly. While rock bubbled and wight bodies burnt to ash, the spear in his shoulder dripped slowly as blue veins spread across his skin. It wasn't a spear. It was ice magic made manifest.

In this land, it was at its strongest. Spells of unknown make were folded into it, and his soul flame unraveled them. His power sang even as his body failed.

He was on hardcore. There was no coming back if he died.

Zack smiled and lifted his right arm. Flames condensed around it before exploding out of his control as he struggled to harness the overwhelming power flowing out of him. Like a second skin, his flames held firm momentarily, long enough to grip the cold spear. Freezer burns covered his hand as he pulled. He looked to see the spear buried in the wall behind him, and his strength wasn't enough to do anything.

Mass: 398,003

He let his hand fall, and his flame began to flicker out. His body started to freeze over. How could he turn this around?

The question blared in his head as he struggled against the impossible.

The Wight stepped forward cautiously. Zack slumped, and the spear held him in place.

What had he done wrong? Was it the mass burning? No, he needed power. Sometimes, survival demanded he take risks. His hands were dying, and he would have died with them. His only hope was to get the White Walker's attention and somehow stamp them. His hands were frozen, and there wasn't much he could do with them. They froze, holding his stamp.

The creature gripped its spear and pulled. He felt it rip free from the wall and his shoulder. His blood was iced over. He tumbled down to the creature's naked feet as it laughed. Zack stared at the stamp he managed to make as he fell.

He tried to make a spark, but the flames were snuffed before they could spark. Zack couldn't breathe; his lungs were frozen over. The temperature was plummeting quickly. Another set of feet appeared in his vision, and he heard the sound of crackling ice.

If he couldn't make a flame on the outside, what about inside himself? Ice was mostly done ruining his body, but there had to be enough left of himself to burn. His soul talent said it was a terrible idea but gave him a hint on how to pull it off.

Zack went for it. Flame erupted from inside of himself and supercharged his body. He pressed his hand against the cold ground and sucked in a breath. The crackling stopped as he exhaled superheated ash. His cells were screaming for blood.

He felt hungry, like an empty pit that needed to be filled. Flames licked at the air from his wounds, hungry to burn all to ash. He grabbed the foot of the Wight Walker and watched the foot sweat before he snapped it off.

He exploded to his feet as the Wight Walker lost balance. Zack grabbed the spear and ripped it from the creature's hand. The other Wight tried to flee, and Zack grabbed its hand. He stamped it on the chest and held his stamp there as it struggled. Then he removed his stamp of a skull with three eyes and stamped the other Wight Walker on the forehead.

Then Zack grabbed the creature by the neck and threw it out of his cave. It bounced and rolled off the stone floor before rolling into the blizzard.

He let the other one go. As the power left him, he felt empty. The last of his strength had left him with that last throw. He sealed the entrance again and made his way to the other room, where he collapsed into a bed of furs that had survived his rampage.

Zack shivered and ran a fever for three days as he watched his company phone, waiting for the good news. He needed their points. Then maybe he could buy some help. Zack needed a healer and a researcher, someone who could tell him what was really going on. Zack watched the blue veins crawl across his body, and he shivered as he tried to cling to life.

In the center of his chest was a blackened clump of orange veins battling the blue. What was happening to him? He coughed out a lungful of smoke and broke off a piece of salt he found in the cave. Zack shook as he seasoned his meat before placing it on the breastplate. He coughed a wet cough as he struggled to stay awake.

…

On the third day, it happened. The company paid him 40 credits for the binding, and Zack immediately sold the white walkers for another 60. It felt good pressing the sale button.

At 100 credits, he first paid off his debt, leaving him with only 90. Then, with shaky hands, he perused the choices for companions. Zack had a choice to make between Katara and Tsunade Senju. One of them could save him, but who would be the most likely to help him in his current state? Zack felt the room spin and could barely breathe. Every inhalation was a struggle as smoke and the cold tried to snuff his life out.

First, he purchased a body tune-up and felt his entire body heal and grow taller, stronger, and healthier. At 85 credits he decided to make his companion purchases.

He pressed purchase.

Also check out my other story Portal Isekai From Hell Don't return to Sender its in the signature. 

I had a lot of fun with this chapter don't know if it will be weakly but I'm going back to my main story after this. I know Zack has enough for Tsunade and Katara he might buy them both. The reason for two Wight Walkers was Tsunade's price and the price of the Wight Walkers. Ask me any questions in the comments I'll try and answer them.