Chapter 32
Fwhooo.
The winter of the north brings sharp, skin-slashing winds howling relentlessly.
The bone-chilling dawn breeze makes people huddle and stirs up longing for no reason.
Because I am cold, the thought that someone else might also be cold naturally blossoms into a bitter yearning.
For some, that someone is a lover. For others, family.
And for yet others...
Step, step.
A dawn without a single star.
On the walls of Jaibarshu stood a middle-aged man alone against the biting wind.
At his waist, a scabbard adorned with a gray gemstone that seemed to have Zerban's eyes carved into it, a gem that never lost its luster even in the northern wind.
The sword hilt, as if the northern night itself had been etched into it, belonged to the master of Zerban, passed down through the generations of the house.
The guardian sword that protects the north, passed down only from lord to lord.
Kallis of the North Wind.
The man whose hand gripped its hilt.
No—Elberton, the lord of House Zerban, waved his hand.
The wind flowing between his thick fingers was soon caught in his grasp.
Whoosh.
Instantly, the fierce northern wind settled down gently, like a tamed beast.
The quelled wind could not make him shrink back.
However, it did make him harbor a trace of longing.
"Kallias..."
The hegemon of the north.
Elberton's ash-gray pupils wavered.
Cough, cough.
The coughing that burst out was mixed with moisture. Though it vanished in the fierce wind, the scent of blood was momentarily detectable.
"Lord Zerban."
It was Bernard.
With a bitter expression, he looked at the handkerchief in Elberton's hand.
"...I've shown you a sorry sight. Forget it."
Elberton von Zerban.
Elberton, the Count Zerban and lord of House Zerban, hid the blood-stained handkerchief and turned his gaze below the castle wall.
Even at this late hour, refugees steadily knocked on the city gates.
From all over, countless territorial subjects continued their unending trek toward Jaibarshu, where the sword of the north resided.
"Sir Bernard. What do you think?"
"Was it not something you had already foreseen?"
"To some extent."
However, the situation was more serious than expected.
"The scouts' signals reached me. They say the northern orc legion is on the move."
"They were quiet for a long time. They were amassing their strength all along. To reclaim their original north."
Something that should have happened someday.
It was merely an inevitable event.
"But the timing is poor."
"You are right."
But the timing was poor.
The winter of the north is harsh.
This bitter cold is a prime time to suffer food shortages, and war blossoming alongside stockpiled provisions was a perfect recipe to bleed people dry.
"If only it were a passing wind."
The stirrings in the north were ominous.
"How many are there?"
"他们说至少有七千。拖得越久，数量只会更多。"
Seven thousand orcs.
"And our forces..."
"One thousand knights of Zerban."
Three thousand soldiers.
A total of four thousand.
For an army owned by a single house, it was an exceptionally large force, but it was possible because it was Zerban of the north.
However.
"Four thousand... it will be difficult."
They were outnumbered from the start.
If there was any small mercy, it was the thick castle walls, but they couldn't just hole up inside and fight a defensive siege from the very beginning.
"We must prepare to march."
They needed to whittle down the enemy's numbers even a little. Those who were friendly with demonic beasts would bring nothing good if they reached the castle.
Furthermore.
"I don't think it's just this."
"Are you referring to Killavan?"
"His swordsmanship is excellent, and he's quite intelligent. He's also generous to his people, so he can certainly protect the north."
The only thing required for the lord of Zerban was one thing: whether one was worthy material to protect the north or not.
"Then why did you doubt him?"
"That fellow... he is excessively devoted to his father, you see."
"...You mean his biological father."
"Yes, unlike me, he raised a fine son."
Elberton let out a bitter laugh.
"He plans to kill me and seat his father as lord."
When it would be handed to him if he just waited.
"It's a foolish act he commits because he doesn't know I'm ill."
"Did you know from the beginning?"
"I am Zerban's sword and the shield that guards the north. I couldn't remain as lord if I couldn't even discern that much."
"Then why did you just leave him be? If you had cut the bud early..."
To Bernard's question, Elberton remained silent for a moment before answering.
"An old man's foolish attachment."
"You're younger than me, what kind of talk is that?"
"Every time I see Killavan... that fellow keeps coming to mind, you see."
"Are you talking about Kallias?"
Elberton did not answer that.
But Bernard seemed to understand.
'Blood will tell.'
Even if it was for the sake of the house.
Even if he was a cold-hearted man who cast out his own child, in the end, that is what parents are.
Anyone would be mindful of an aching finger.
"Sir Bernard."
"Yes."
"Killavan alone couldn't have moved the orcs. He is brave, but he is not one capable of orchestrating something of this magnitude."
There is someone behind him.
Someone experienced, well-versed in the north, and bearing a considerable grudge.
"He probably belongs to some group."
"Do you have anyone in mind? What about Killavan's biological father?"
"Perhaps. If he is to become lord, he'd have to rush through the succession ceremony amidst the chaos of war like roasting beans in a tempest."
But beyond that.
Something bigger.
There is something... Elberton thought.
The hand gripping Kallis, the family heirloom, held a faint tremor.
It was not fear or terror.
It was the aftermath of anticipation for what was soon to come.
"Perhaps all of this could be a coincidence, but matters of the world are not so often made of coincidence, are they?"
"That is true."
"...Sir Bernard. I might die in this battlefield."
"Do not say such things. Your death does not belong to you alone."
"A body with not many days left to live. In that case, I think dying honorably in the embrace of the battlefield has its own charm. The hegemon of the north, dying merely of illness... wouldn't that too be a wretched death?"
Bernard, who was about to say that wasn't true, couldn't bring himself to open his mouth.
Both Elberton and Bernard were swordsmen and knights who wielded the sword.
He too understood Elberton's heart that did not desire an ignoble death.
"We have been at peace for too long."
"But the north has always..."
"A battlefield of this scale is rare. It's rather fortunate. If war broke out after I died, it would have been hard to endure."
Bernard felt a strange sense of déjà vu.
He seemed as if he wanted war.
He harbored a peculiar anticipation, like someone who desired it deeply.
As if he were searching for a place to die.
"You intend to die."
"When I die, what will become of Zerban? And what will become of the north... aren't you curious?"
"...I am not curious."
"I am curious. If I die..."
What will become of Zerban.
Who will become lord.
And what kind of wind will blow across the north.
Will the one who masters Kallis, which has been with me my whole life, be able to handle this blade?
"That fellow..."
And what about Kallias.
What will become of the only son.
It was then.
A knight bearing Zerban's crest came running urgently.
"What is it?"
"There is an urgent report from the scouts!"
"Speak."
"A battle took place in Dainel village, and despite being outnumbered, they achieved a great victory!"
A victory report arriving in a dire situation.
"Glad tidings. Who accomplished that honorable deed?"
The branch Zerbans hadn't arrived yet. He thought it might be one of them.
"They said a knight draped in a red cloak appeared to be the leader of the group..."
"Kallias!"
Bernard shouted.
The corners of Elberton's eyes tremored faintly.
"That fellow..."
That fellow led the knights and annihilated the orcs?
Bernard did not doubt it, but Elberton furrowed his brow.
It was a claim not easily believed.
"However..."
Before he could finish his thought.
The soldier's report was not yet over.
"They said there were signs of a Great Warrior moving toward Dainel."
"What...!"
A Great Warrior! An orc Great Warrior commanding an entire legion, already!?
"Was the Great Warrior alone by any chance?"
"Yes! That is correct!"
"I know what kind of fellow. A bastard who likes to wander alone despite being a Great Warrior. Keltuk, it's that fellow."
A quite peculiar fellow, but his prowess was unquestionably the real deal.
The northern knights who had died by his axe were beyond counting.
"I will go. If it's Kallias, he won't go down easily!"
As Bernard was about to leap out, Elberton drew his sword.
The heirloom of Zerban.
Kallis of the North Wind was drawn.
"Take your stance. The north wind will be with you."
Click.
Shriiing—Whoosh!
Suddenly, a storm gusted.
Bernard's form, infused with it, vanished along with the gale.
The sword containing the north wind, Kallis.
The soldier's eyes gleamed sharply.
"However..."
Click. Elberton's eyes flashed.
"You're an unfamiliar face."
The soldier's face contorted.
Tap! Tadadada!
As if that were a signal, assassins in black robes appeared from below the castle wall, radiating killing intent.
The corners of Elberton's mouth rose.
It was a cold smile.
"Is that good news true?"
The hegemon of the north, standing arrogantly before dozens of assassins.
Seeing that, the assassins actually flinched before opening their mouths.
"...It is true."
"Then that's enough."
Once more, the north wind howled.
* * *
"Uwaaaah!!"
A loud cheer erupted.
Having won a battle they thought unwinnable, it was only natural.
Even I felt this thrilling exhilaration, so how could they be any different?
Victory is precious and joyous to anyone.
Therefore, it was only right to fully feel the joy of victory now.
Fwhooo—
Unfortunately, matters of the world were not so easy.
"I don't like these kinds of variables."
Sitting atop a mountain of orc corpses, barely supporting myself with my sword, I saw a lone figure walking toward me.
The creature's red hair, looking like multiple whips bound together, did not flutter even in the powerful northern wind.
In both hands, it gripped two axes engraved with red patterns, and radiated an immense aura from its entire body.
Red hair that only those who had accumulated lofty honor and achievements within the orc hordes could dye themselves in. Axes stained with blood.
In terms of the Valterus Order, it was equivalent to a Paladin possessing a Holy Sword.
An Orc Great Warrior.
"Uh-oh..."
Its appearance shifted the atmosphere.
The northern wind that had felt refreshing now approached with a chilling edge.
Gulp.
Even without knowing about Great Warriors, those who were different from ordinary orcs couldn't open their mouths in the face of its overpowering presence.
Those who had been shouting at the top of their lungs just moments ago now didn't utter a single word, only swallowing dry saliva.
'Damn it.'
Of all timings.
If they were going to throw cold water, they did it in a spectacular fashion. They had just achieved a great victory, yet before they could even properly savor it, this thing appeared and drove the soaring spirits straight into the abyss.
Whether it knew of this feeling or not, the Great Warrior slowly walked in and gazed up at Kallias, who was sitting atop the heap of orc corpses.
Thud, thud.
Then it set down the axes in both hands. Crick, crack.
It cracked its neck as it stretched, silently waiting for the battle to come.
"My... my lord, shouldn't we flee?"
Brans trembled with fear.
True to his quick-witted nature, he seemed to realize that the Great Warrior's level was vastly different from those they had encountered so far.
Well, considering the creature's killing intent was so intense it weighed down and encroached upon the surroundings, why even mention it.
'Running away would be difficult.'
Just one opponent. However, its level far surpassed the capabilities of the orcs they had previously met. Fleeing meant death.
The moment they ran, they would be caught one by one and torn limb from limb.
'We have to fight.'
Fortunately, it was a Great Warrior.
A fellow who knew the etiquette of battle.
It was merely stretching quietly, with no intention of attacking first.
Arrogantly, it was at ease.
And it was anticipating it.
The battle that would follow.
The slaughter it would wreak!
The vengeance for its fallen comrades!
"Fall back."
Swoosh.
Kallias undid his cloak and stepped forward.
He drew Lucen from his waist and drove it into the ground.
He let Roas's scabbard hang loose.
He left behind everything that would get in the way.
And finally.
Click.
The artifact on his wrist.
He unclasped Bibi's bracelet.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Divine power from within Kallias overflowed to the point of explosion.
As if reflecting the excruciating pain, fresh blood flowed from the corners of his mouth.
But unlike the flowing blood.
His expression was endlessly serene.
What settled in his slowly opening pupils was only the sight of his sword and his enemy.
There was no hesitation.
Kwaaang—!
Silver petals fluttered.