Chapter 493 – King of the North
The fierce snow blocked their vision.
Faces exposed to the cold wind turned red after long exposure.
Beards and hair were crusted with frost.
"Of all days, it had to be a snowstorm today, what shitty luck."
"At this rate, we'll freeze to death before we even get to fight."
The 284 soldiers dispatched from Chillstead were each armed with insulated-handled spears, swords, shields, and thick fur armor.
In the northern regions, if one mishandled untreated metal, it wasn't rare for frozen flesh to rip off along with it.
At the commander's order, the warriors formed a straight line.
They had taken position on a slightly raised hill, so the landscape ahead was clear.
A forest thick with conifers, cold and bitter.
And beneath the green leaves laden with white snowflakes, monsters slowly began to reveal themselves.
"Shit... just how many are there...?"
They had anticipated the numbers, they had predicted the route.
Thus they had managed to intercept the monsters and construct at least a minimal line of defense, but... hearing about it and seeing it with one's own eyes felt worlds apart.
[Kieeeek!]
[Kaaak!]
White goblins, evolved to suit the northern environment, let out shrieks. These evolved creatures could not be thought of as ordinary goblins.
They were armed with equipment looted from humans, savage and brutal.
And they were intelligent.
Though they despised orcs, they maintained cooperative relations by supplying ogres and trolls with food. They captured quadrupedal magical beasts to ride, and sometimes even lured powerful abnormal species to their side.
A horde of demi-humans centered around these white goblins numbered at least 600.
Over twice the number of Chillstead's soldiers gathered here. Yet, even knowing they were outnumbered, there was no alternative.
Other forces had to strike the main horde of abnormal species numbering around 100.
Another force had to maintain the wide encirclement.
And Terat, the commander of the subjugation forces, was leading a separate detachment to track a mighty abnormal species.
In many ways, it was a troop deployment far beyond their means, but of course, it was done because they had a plan.
The great warrior of the North.
Because of his existence, they could reduce the number of warriors needed to face the demi-humans, focusing their strength on the other military operations.
"Great warrior, how do you judge the situation...?"
The tense commander asked.
Adrian, playing the role of the false great warrior, did not reply.
Srrrng.
Instead, he drew the great warrior's double-edged sword slung across his back in one hand, and stepped forward.
'This will serve well enough as rehabilitation exercise.'
Thanks to the potion brewed from the fruit of Lysandro, rare even among elves, which he had received from the Grand Forest, his internal burns had already healed.
There was no pain, no discomfort.
Then how could a mere few hundred demi-humans pose any threat. Even if he wielded a blade that didn't suit his preference.
Crunch, crunch.
As Adrian left footprints on the snow, he calmed his mind.
He recalled the Great Hall.
That moment he had cleaved the beam of black flame just before escaping through
'My sword, it truly reached the Transcendent.'
Not skimming Verdant's body through tricks as before, but directly head-on.
He had grown.
A powerful experience.
Just before the demonic sword Cadence broke, the peril that had tingled through his fingertips, that thrill, that sensation—unforgettable.
Excitement stirred again within memory.
His heartbeat grew stronger, reverberating through his entire body.
At the same time, a suffocating tightness gripped his chest.
As though something was within reach... yet whenever he extended his hand, there was nothing to grasp.
Even though he had stepped into the darkness, it felt like he still could not find the path forward.
Without anyone to tell him, Adrian realized this was the very riddle of Transcendence.
'Yet the nature of it remains elusive.'
Still, he had no worries of being stuck in place forever.
So long as he advanced like this, someday he would find and solve the riddle.
This was certainty.
Thud!
Adrian stomped upon the ground.
With an explosion of snow bursting in the background, he swung the heavy blade.
A goblin riding a magical beast was hacked apart, weapons and hide together.
For now, Adrian's task was the slaughter of this trifling demi-human horde.
While striving to call forth the concentration he had wielded when blocking Dahit's attack, training himself to replicate that strike at will.
Whoosh───Shaaah!
The blade carved through empty air.
Following it, screams of demi-humans and sprays of blood scattered.
"That's, the great warrior...!"
"Ha-ha, he's more than the rumors said!!"
The soldiers of the frozen land cheered at the overwhelming might ravaging the demi-humans.
[Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak!]
From atop the head of an 8-meter tall abnormal species, a yeti, the white goblin chieftain bellowed until his throat tore.
At his signal, the horde of demi-humans surged into motion.
Except for the chaotic center where Adrian was wreaking havoc, they pressed forward on both flanks toward the soldiers of Chillstead.
The tremors grew nearer through the blizzard.
"First and second rows, shields locked!! Third and fourth rows, stand by!!!"
Thud!
Round shields overlapped above and below, forming a shield wall. It was a traditional northern tactic.
At last, the demi-humans slammed into the shields.
"Stab!!"
Thrust! Thrust! Thunk!
Between the shields, the swords of the third row and spears of the fourth row flashed in turn.
Some missed, some struck to wound.
One after another, white goblin corpses piled at their feet. While the magi stationed in the rear halted the approach of massive demi-humans that could break the formation.
A smooth opening exchange.
The subjugation battle had begun.
***
In one of Chillstead's buildings where Verdant's party had newly taken residence.
Ssshh.
Black sand fell.
It passed through the narrow central channel and dropped vertically, What had been a faint trickle soon poured down like a small waterfall of sand.
The inversion of up and down.
The sky became the ground, the ground became the sky.
This closed world, powered by natural mana and the external force of rotation, rewound and replayed the records it contained.
Without any loss.
Artificial repetition, again and again, without end.
Thus, the [Hourglass of Perpetuity].
Fwoooosh.
From the artifact resting on his palm, subtle mana waves spread out. At the same time, countless tiny lights of mana floated into the air.
Soon, these self-luminous points gathered densely, manifesting a deep-blue octahedron within a transparent three-dimensional space exactly 3 meters by 2 meters.
'An artificial artifact of this caliber, it could rival the greatest masterpieces crafted by any magic tower.'
Hadn't it been said the leader of Black Hour devoted half his life to creating this.
It was believable.
Whoom.
Verdant lightly moved his other hand, manipulating the hourglass.
As though peering through a telescope at a distant object, only the octahedron confined within a specific range was brought forward into view.
Like cells, the square motes of light forming the framework of the shape magnified to the size of a fingertip.
'...Each one of these is a research record registered by Black Hour?'
Observing closely, Verdant enlarged it further.
At a certain size, the once-blurry square of light grew clear, and a book made of mana revealed itself.
[2nd tier──3rd step]
The text inscribed upon the cover denoted the classification within the [Hourglass of Perpetuity].
He opened the book.
Inside were considerations and related experiments on the instability of flame magic.
The author's name was written, though it was unfamiliar.
'Not noteworthy in itself, but the level of research is high.'
With mild interest, he swiftly read through. With no need to reread, he grasped the researcher's aim at once.
Turning the page, however... he was met with a completely different, unrelated research record.
Not even from the beginning, but some random section around page 53.
'So this is the unique property of the [Hourglass of Perpetuity].'
Cayman Vermont had mentioned it before.
───If you forcibly remove the [Hourglass of Perpetuity] outside its deepest layer, troublesome things will happen. It will take months for natural mana to gather enough to restart the hourglass, but more importantly... the countless research records within will all jumble together.
───Efficiency above all, Dahit would never waste effort on such disorder. I can say this with certainty.
As he had said, the moment it left the Great Hall, all the records lost their arrangement, becoming a mixed jumble.
[Scanning...]
Alpha's round single eye gleamed.
[Scan complete. Subdividing the octahedron based on natural mana as its source. The contents of the light-squares forming the minimal units of the shape cannot be viewed externally. Expansion into book form and reading is required.]
"Troublesome. Roughly how long do you think it would take to restore it to its original state?"
[Assuming restoration means that each research record is not mixed at all. Information extremely insufficient. The time required to perfectly reorganize the ruined interior of the hourglass is immeasurable.]
It meant the margin of error was so vast that even an approximate calculation could not be attempted.
'Well, there's no need to sort it out immediately.'
Verdant shifted his thoughts, focusing on quickly leafing through the books of research. These, after all, formed the very foundation of Black Hour.
As a mage, there was no way he could not be interested.
'The priority is to read as many as possible and store them in my mind.'
His memory would not fade in the slightest anyway.
Close examination could come afterward, and arranging these scattered grains of record would be for later.
His blue eyes moved tirelessly.
Even as he manipulated the hourglass without pause, so as not to waste time.
"Hm."
[Hm.]
Before long, his concentration reached its peak.
Alpha was the same.
It imitated Verdant's actions, never taking its gaze off the vast troves of data that Black Hour had accumulated over long years.
Verdant closed the seventh book and opened the eighth.
'Unlike the ten magic towers that each fix their focus according to their own characteristics, this doesn't restrict itself to any field.'
Experiments on the properties of mana, which seemed to have provided the basis for conceiving the [Compass of Black Hour].
Descriptions of what magical phenomena occurred in the process of
Harkan Dazest's celestial bodies.
Cayman Vermont's elemental sets.
Melard Tastienne's versatility of necromancy, and so forth... it would be no exaggeration to say they researched all things related to magic.
Many subjects were familiar, but there were also things never seen even in the Tower of Bohemirn, and ideas born from unexpected inspiration scattered throughout.
Simply skimming them, he felt the totality of magical knowledge he had learned, mastered, and had forced into him expand.
It was then.
"This is...."
While turning pages every few seconds, Verdant's gaze fixed upon the top line.
Author, Dahit Wethroel.
Fragments of research whose subject was unknown, directly touched by the hand of Black Hour's usurper and a Transcendent.
'What could be here.'
His eyes dropped immediately.
It was an almost reflexive response. But... there was much blank space.
Unlike the other records, the pages were not filled densely.
Only a single sentence was written.
"...?"
[...?]
The bizarre phrase left their minds blank, unable to grasp its meaning.
Was it something philosophical?
Verdant and Alpha tilted their heads, pondering, but no answer came.
They rifled through other books in hopes of finding related information, but unfortunately, found nothing.
...Tok.
Before long, all the black sand above had fallen below.
The speed at which the sand fell represented the duration of the hourglass's opening.
This depended on the amount of natural mana stored in the artifact.
Whooom.
Once all the charged mana was exhausted, the mana octahedron vanished, and the [Hourglass of Perpetuity] ceased operation.
The room fell silent.
Verdant narrowed his brow as he stared at the [Hourglass of Perpetuity] in his hand.
'What was Dahit researching?'
Since it was done by a Transcendent, it surely held important meaning...
Are mana circuits natural.
As a fellow Transcendent, this phrase especially felt unsettling.
In any case, this was enough for now.
If he invested effort again to recharge mana and sift through the records, one day he would surely uncover research related to it.
The faster his mana circuits recovered, the sooner that day would come.
Several days passed since then.
Contrary to schedule, Adrian, who had gone out leading the demi-human subjugation force, returned early to Chillstead.
***
The reason the subjugation of the demi-human horde was finished so quickly was nothing special.
They had been annihilated.
The corpses of demi-humans would be disposed of by hungry wild beasts according to nature's cycle, so there was no reason to remain outside any longer.
The streets bustled with life.
Though Terat and the other forces had yet to return, the atmosphere was festive.
Even the refugees, who often stirred trouble, were quiet today.
And Chillstead's taverns were more crowded than ever.
"Now I finally understand why they call the great warrior such a mighty warrior. He swung that huge sword at speeds invisible to the eye... even as an ally, it was terrifying."
"I think more than half the demi-human fell to the great warrior's sword. Thanks to that, we didn't even have to enact the tedious plan of gradually reducing their numbers through repeated retreats."
"And to think he split that massive yeti in one stroke. Had I not witnessed it with my own eyes. I never would have believed it. Hah, who'd have thought I'd live to see such sword aura."
Each raised their cups, praising the might of the great warrior who had stood at the forefront of the subjugation.
'Noisy.'
Of course, Adrian himself had no interest in such gossip.
He was used to it, having seen the same scenes countless times during his days among the Four Powers of the Central Continent.
He sat roughly in a corner of the bar, drinking alone.
Though he wished to immediately head to his lord, disguising himself as the false great warrior meant he had to take appropriate actions.
It was his own judgment.
Fortunately, the fierce aura he exuded kept anyone from bothering him.
It was then.
"Ah! So you are the great warrior."
Someone approached, a nameless young man clad in a plain robe that concealed most of his body, holding a glass and a bottle.
From beneath his hood showed a youthful face and radiant golden hair.
"I've heard much. That you subjugated the demi-human horde and saved the refugees. As a northerner, I thank you. May I sit?"
Before Adrian could answer, the youth took a seat uninvited, and poured himself a drink with strong liquor.
"Shall I pour you a cup?"
"No."
"Decisive."
The youth smiled faintly, raised his glass.
Instead of drinking immediately, he spun it idly, as though savoring the moment.
Conversation resumed minutes later.
"By tradition, the title of great warrior is granted only upon receiving a specially forged weapon directly from the king of the North. By lineage, the forebear, and his forebear... all the way back to the ancestors."
"...?"
"Of course, the appointment process has not changed in modern times either. In other words, to become a great warrior, one must face the king of the North."
He glanced sidelong at Adrian.
"Judging by appearance, you're not so old, so it must have been the current king who appointed you. The youngest warrior chosen by a forebear would be middle-aged by now, and he did not have eyes as sharp as yours. So I wonder."
The youth downed his glass in one breath, then leisurely turned his head.
Blue eyes locked directly onto Adrian.
"I never appointed you as great warrior. Who are you?"
A fleeting silence.
The surrounding noise faded, his thoughts accelerated.
Crack───!
Adrian moved instinctively.
His fist, lightning-fast, stopped just short of the stranger's face, caught in his grasp.
"Very fast. Even unarmed, it wouldn't be strange if you impersonated the great warrior of the North."
An opponent whose strength could not be gauged.
A clue revealed in their conversation just now.
"You are the king of the North?"
"Moving unofficially, so I cannot confirm, but I won't deny it either."
The king of the North said.
"I have questions for you, stranger. Not regarding your impersonation of the great warrior, but about space-transference to the North. If you only answer, there will be no issue."
"Sounds to me like an interrogation."
"If you cooperate, I promise not to act coercively. But this place is crowded. Shall we step outside to talk?"
No hostility.
At least, clearly unrelated to Black Hour's pursuit.
But Adrian Chambers was not one to meekly obey a stranger's words.
"Fine, let's step out first."
Their clashing strength made their hands tremble as they pressed against each other.
Fwoosh.
Abruptly, Adrian retracted his arm with speed, shifting his weight. A kick with rotational force surged straight forward.
"Combative."
The king of the North leaned aside, kicking from his place.
A heavy movement.
As his robe tore open to reveal blue armor, their strikes crossed at once.
Kwoooooooom!
The tavern wall right beside them exploded.
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