"We're almost at the mountain range!"
The shout from the soldier walking ahead made Evan nod slightly.
True to its infamous reputation, the blizzard grew fiercer the closer they got to the mountains, accompanied by biting winds that pierced the lungs like knives.
"Captain, are you alright?"
"...No, I'm not, you bastard."
Trailing behind Evan was a man whose face was a battered mess, groaning as he followed.
Sir Galen, captain of the Dreadnote Family's Hecto Knight Order.
His face was so swollen it was hard to recognize his original features,
and blood kept trickling from the corner of his mouth.
To any onlooker, he looked like he should turn back immediately for treatment rather than heading into battle.
But no one here could say that to him.
Or rather, no one dared.
'Retreat? What the hell are you talking about? Want to get hit again?'
It was because our esteemed commander, who had played a starring role in reducing him to this state, had ordered him to follow.
'...Fucking bastard.'
"Cough...!"
He spat the rising blood into the snow, his body trembling with intense humiliation.
His mind replayed the indelible memory from the estate.
Half a day earlier, in the Dreadnote mansion's office.
"Not you too, Sir Jeron?"
"The young lady summoned us here."
"Ha ha. This is something."
They glanced out the window at the soldiers assembled with their gear.
They had no idea what was happening.
Under Celine's initiative, all the knights stationed at the family estate had been gathered in one place.
Their murmurs from the sudden assembly fixed on the silver-haired girl standing on the platform.
"Young lady, everyone seems to be here. Can you explain now?"
When an older knight cautiously raised his hand for an explanation, she nodded lightly.
"Sorry for calling you so suddenly. The situation is urgent. The frontline holding back the barbarians has collapsed."
"...Pardon?"
"No, it's never happened before. What in the world..."
As confusion spread and the room grew noisy,
she cleared her throat to refocus attention.
"I'm just as flustered. The family head is on his way here. We need to move out to stop the descending barbarians..."
It was right then, as Celine paused for breath and prepared to declare their march.
"That's enough."
A low but drowsy voice that silenced the entire office.
Evan, lounging in a chair by the window, dragged it forward as he stood.
No one had noticed him enter. He certainly hadn't been there before.
Though he drew panicked and contemptuous stares from the knights, his expression remained unchanged.
Tap, tap.
Evan's fingers, resting on the table, drummed softly.
Ignoring the gazes, he coldly scanned the assembled group.
"Time is of the essence. The barbarians are poised to knock on Dreadnote's door any moment."
"So from this moment, I'm taking command here."
"...What."
The words echoed through the office, sparking chaos like a bomb explosion.
Bang!
"What nonsense is this!"
"We don't recognize you."
"Even as the eldest son, how dare you speak of command without the family head's approval?"
"Young lady! Why is he even here?!"
Despite the barrage of accusations, Evan remained expressionless, silently meeting each gaze one by one.
"Celine agrees. I'll say it again—no time to waste."
Evan nodded toward Celine beside him.
As all eyes turned to her, she nodded faintly, her face pale.
"..."
They knew full well how much Celine despised Evan, no less than they did.
The unexpected response stirred unrest among the watching knights.
"Ha ha..."
"If it's the young lady's will, no choice."
"To save the family head..."
Though their expressions remained displeased, with Celine's permission confirmed,
the reluctant knights one by one nodded and returned to their seats.
Celine inwardly sighed in relief at the simpler-than-expected agreement,
but Galen, the knight order captain who had been silently scowling with arms crossed, spoke up.
"...Even if it's the young lady's order, I can't accept this. We can't entrust our lives to that man."
"You're crossing the line, Sir Galen. I'm still the family's eldest son, you know."
Evan fixed a chilly gaze on Galen, who was pointing accusingly at him from amid the uproar.
"I can't recognize you. A mere bastard—"
"The house dog's not listening, huh."
Before Galen could finish, Evan let out a deep sigh.
Glare. Heavy breathing like he'd charge any second.
As Evan's lips curled into a smirk while eyeing Galen's twitching muscles,
Galen knew it too.
That Evan was right, and this wasn't the time.
But his pride as a knight wouldn't let him bow to the man before him.
"If you won't obey, there's a way."
Evan fully rose from his chair and approached the heavily breathing Galen.
"Come at me."
"...What?"
"Beat me, and Celine takes command as you wish."
"But if I beat you, you all follow my orders without complaint."
What the hell was this guy saying?
Galen couldn't comprehend.
...You, beat me?
Absurdity and rage flashed across Galen's face.
"...Are you insulting me right now?!"
"Insult?"
Ha.
Suppressing rising irritation, Evan brushed back the hair from his forehead,
his eyes glinting coldly at Galen.
"Choose. Kneel here and swear loyalty, or get slammed to the floor and dragged like a dog."
It was a one-sided ultimatum, a merciless declaration.
Crunch.
Hearing it snapped Galen's reason.
To him, Evan's words were an unbearable insult.
"You arrogant brat!"
Roaring, he drew his sword from his waist and charged at Evan.
"Ga-Galen, sir!"
"Crazy... Stop him now!"
Sweeping past the shocked knights' cries and his sister's paling face,
Evan didn't even flinch. Not even thinking of drawing his own sword.
Just before Galen's blade cleaved Evan's head,
his body slid sideways like a mirage.
Whoosh!
"Wha...!?"
The strike meant to kill.
Galen's eyes widened in shock; he thought it impossible to dodge.
Seizing the opening, Evan's hand shot out like lightning, seizing Galen's wrist.
Crack!
"Arghhh!"
The gruesome sound of bone twisting, and the sword fell from Galen's hand.
Evan's knife-hand strike followed to Galen's nape,
then a merciless kick to the knee-buckled man's gut.
"Guhk!"
In mere seconds.
Before the other knights could rush to stop it.
Everyone stared blankly, unable to believe the scene.
One of the estate's top fighters, Galen, was being toyed with like a child.
"Cough...!"
Evan grabbed the collapsing, vomiting-blood Galen by the collar and whispered in his ear.
"Choice is over."
Thud!
With Evan's fist smashing Galen's face, his memory cut to black.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Cough!"
Shaking off the bitter memory brought fresh blood surging.
Galen silently glared daggers at Evan's back ahead.
"Got something to say, Sir Galen?"
"...No, cough!"
Does that monster have eyes in the back of his head?
Galen bit his lip, humiliation stinging worse than his broken ribs.
He didn't want to admit it, but he'd lost.
Perfectly. To the bastard he'd dismissed as a mere illegitimate child.
'When the hell did he get that strong?'
He couldn't understand. The Evan he knew couldn't even lift a sword, let alone a bottle.
Yet now, he was a completely different person.
As if someone else had possessed Evan Dreadnote's body.
Phantom-like movements. Bone-shattering blows. Overwhelming cold gaze.
All far beyond Galen's common sense.
"..."
The other knights followed Evan in silence too.
No one had the guts to defy him after he'd proven his strength firsthand.
How long had they marched?
As the blizzard raged fiercer and the air thickened with blood,
"Halt."
Evan's low command stopped the march.
While the knights tensed and scanned warily, Evan alone climbed a small hill ahead.
[My lord. It's dangerous.]
"It's fine."
Borin warned from the shadows against any mishap, but Evan brushed it off calmly.
Figures staggering through the blizzard.
"...Not frost giants. Our people."
And among them, one limping while carrying a burly man on his back.
"Cough... Sir Herald!"
Galen's shout made Herald lift his head wearily.
Relief briefly crossed his face at seeing allies, but it turned to shock upon spotting Evan at the front.
"Evan... Young Master? Why are you here...?"
"Explanations later. Father..."
Ignoring Herald, Evan pointed to the count on his back.
"He's not in good shape."
Count Dreadnote, bloodied and unconscious.
The pitiful state of the man called the Northern Shield.
"Yes. The family head to that monster of a woman...!"
Herald bit his lip, unable to continue, frustration boiling.
"Celine. Can you use recovery magic?"
"Huh? Y-Yeah."
Nodding toward the count, Celine stepped forward.
She examined his wounds with a pale face, then began casting healing magic with trembling hands.
Blue light enveloped the count, but the injuries were too deep for full recovery anytime soon.
"That's enough. Emergency care's done—stop there for now. Herald, escort the family head and fall back. We'll handle this."
"But...! The enemy's strength is beyond imagination. With this many...!"
Not nearly enough. That's what he wanted to say.
"If we can't stop them here, it's over anywhere."
Failing to halt Imir here meant nowhere was safe.
No paradise in running.
"...Understood. Young Master, Young Lady... I pray for your fortune in battle."
Herald finally bowed his head.
He led the remaining routed soldiers, supporting the count, back toward the estate.
Once they vanished completely, Evan slowly turned and advanced without hesitation.
His overwhelming poise showed no trace of fear,
compelling all the knights, Galen included, to grip their swords tighter and follow unwittingly.
"...My God."
Shortly after pushing through the blizzard, they emerged into a hellscape, drawing low groans from the soldiers.
Bodies and blood strewn everywhere, amid desperate clashes.
And there, slammed to the ground bleeding, was Heron.
"Celine. Fire a big one that way."
She hesitated briefly but nodded firmly.
She extended her trembling hand into the air and began chanting in an unintelligible ancient tongue.
"O ancient flames, heed my call." "Form a spear of devouring flames and pierce the enemy!"
⟨ Flame Spear ⟩
The air rippled around her as dozens of magic circles ignited red.
The surrounding blizzard evaporated in an instant, replaced by scorching heat enveloping the battlefield instead of the flesh-cutting cold.
Boom!
The circles merged into a massive flame spear with her cry.
It soared toward the densest cluster of barbarians with sky-splitting momentum.
Kaboom!
The world flashed white amid earth-shaking explosion, a massive fire pillar shooting skyward.
The shockwave staggered everyone nearby.
"Arghhh!"
Dozens of frost giant warriors at the epicenter turned to black ash without even screaming.
"...What?"
Startled, Imir whipped her gaze toward the spell's origin.
There, her eyes met a man's piercing stare.
"As expected of my little sister. Your skills are the real deal."
"...Shut up, big brother."
Celine snapped curtly at the flippant praise, but her voice trembled faintly.
The sudden demand had consumed a huge chunk of her mana.
"Catch your breath. I'll wrap this up quick."
Evan glanced at her briefly, then slowly walked toward the downed Heron.
"Lying there all pathetic, little brother."
"...What are you?"
Her beautiful face, frozen in the sudden shift, twisted viciously in rage.
The intruder ruining her hunt—
Daring to act casual before her—ignited killing intent.
"Daring to scheme in front of me?"
"You're Frostfang Imir, right?"
His flat tone betrayed no tension.
Imir's murderous aura seemed to deflate, as if she'd charge any second.
She couldn't fathom this guy's behavior.
Was he insane?
Or that confident in his skills?
"...Yeah. I'm Imir. And you're about to get your head chopped off by my sword."
"Funny thing to say."
Like looking at a child spouting impossible wishes.
Evan scoffed.
Ignoring Imir's bewildered stare,
he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it firmly against the gushing wound on Heron's shoulder to staunch the blood.
"Urk...!"
"Quit whining. You're not dead yet."
Each casual action grated on Imir's nerves.
Clear proof he was utterly dismissing her.
"...Guys. Kill him."
At Imir's low growl, the snapped-to barbarians roared and charged him.
"You filthy barbarians dare!"
Before their weapons reached Evan, knights flashed from behind to block them.
Clang!
"We'll handle the small fry! Get Young Master Heron to safety!"
Galen snarled, parrying a barbarian axe with his sword.
As if venting his humiliation and rage on the foes before him, his blade blazed fiercely.
The frost giant tribe and Dreadnote forces clashed, turning the field into pandemonium instantly.
But Evan and Imir's gazes locked solely on each other.
As if time around them had frozen.
"You."
Imir spoke.
"...Who the hell are you?"
"Guess."
Shing.
Drawing from the sheath at his waist,
the deep, chilling blade gleamed, making the blizzard seem to pause.
"Someone here to save his little brother."
"...Crazy bastard."
Evan pointed his sword tip at her with a smile.
"Did you do this to my little brother, you crazy bitch?"