A Familiar Guest (1)
The black curtain of night retreated beyond the horizon, and the stars slipped from sight one by one like actors leaving the stage.
What filled the empty stage was the sun — that brilliant radiance that illuminates all things, flooding the sky with its glory.
And once more, the time of festival began.
A festival begun in the name of a god. Its end, too, must come in the name of a god. The festival was not yet over.
Fight and prove yourselves. Prove your worth!
Waaaaaah—!
The crowd's roar surged skyward, ready to burst.
"Hmm."
Friga stood still, gazing at the thrones. Six enormous thrones. She rolled a small whetstone between her fingers, eyes narrowed. It was the stone that had been ground down against her axe blade the night before.
"Hup — ha!"
She pocketed the whetstone she'd been toying with and loosened up her body with a light stretch.
This trial was Friga's turn.
Considering everything the god had put her through so far… she couldn't even begin to guess what kind of trial was coming.
"My lady, are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Just… well. A little curious about what the trial's going to be."
"Whatever it is, you'll crush it in no time, my lady!"
"Ha. Obviously."
Thud—
"Haha! With a lady like you, no monster that shows up stands a chance!"
"I know I'm in no position to talk after my own disgraceful fall, but don't let your guard down, my lady."
Lionheart and Hans came over, offering their encouragement with this and that. Friga nodded vaguely and flicked a glance over her shoulder.
There stood Iscal, hanging back at a distance, reading the room. For all that massive shield of his, he was fretting over her mood from afar like a nervous wreck!
Was the man so spineless he couldn't even walk over and speak for himself?
No matter how she looked at it, Iscal showed no intention of approaching first.
"When you're dealing with big ones, you mainly want to target their center of gravity — huh? My lady?"
Hoo—
Friga steadied her breath, then strode straight toward Iscal.
"Hey."
"Uh — uh, y-yes? My lady?"
Friga shoved her face right up to his and growled.
Thump — thump —
Whether it was her face so close his nose could almost touch it, or that unreadable aura of hers — Iscal's heart hammered wildly in his chest.
"You."
Her pale finger jabbed into his chest.
"From now on, I'm watching. Do it right."
"Y-yes?! Understood! Sss… I understand!"
"When you see me — got it? You drop whatever you're doing, even from far away, and you plant yourself right next to me! That's what I mean!"
"Yes, ma'am! Understood!"
"If I catch you looking scared or pathetic anywhere, you're dead by my hand — you hear me? Watch yourself."
What exactly she was going to watch, and what "doing it right" meant — Friga herself didn't know, Iscal didn't know, and neither did anyone watching.
Except for one person.
"Ah, youth."
The old Paladin simply folded his arms and watched the scene with a warm, contented smile.
Shaaa—
In the center of a duel ground so vast it felt desolate, Friga stood alone.
A wind carrying the dry sand of the arena swept past. She felt her hair stir in the breeze and quietly closed her eyes.
Among all the challengers so far, only one had passed the trial.
Iscal.
What set Iscal apart from the others?
He didn't back down. He fought with everything he had, even death on the line.
Hans, too, had stood his ground and fought bravely — but his lack of experience had cost him a narrow defeat.
She thought she understood, more or less.
What the god wanted to see through this arena, and what he demanded of them.
"Ha! You've got to be kidding me."
Standing in the middle of the duel ground, she felt the massive thrones looking down on her. Friga snorted a laugh at them.
A warrior's courage. Never retreating from a fight.
Those were basic virtues so obvious to northerners they barely needed saying. This was the North — a place where even a three-year-old would smash a beast's skull with a frozen soup pot. And they dared test the courage of a northern duke's daughter?
Whatever monster they sent, she would carve it to pieces for all to see and shout it in the god's face.
Is that all? Is this really your idea of a trial?
…And if the opportunity presented itself, she'd throw a punch or two as well.
Rumble—
The ground of the arena trembled lightly, announcing the start of the trial.
Friga's dark eyes settled low as she scanned every direction. The Dragon Hunter's Axe gleamed with a blue-edged hunger, as if thirsting for blood.
Axe gripped firm, eyes blazing with fighting spirit — Friga was certain she could defeat any monster that came at her.
Saaaah—
A piercing chill settled over the arena. Moisture froze into frost and drifted down; breath steamed white in the air, mocking the midday sun.
Crack — crackle—
"Ice…?"
Ice crept across the ground beneath her feet, claiming territory, the cold growing stronger until it sank into her bones. Before long the floor began to freeze over in thick sheets.
Thump — thump —
It was coming.
It was coming now.
Friga's beast-like instincts screamed a warning, and the Dragon Hunter's Axe cried out.
Prepare! Prepare!
Your enemy approaches!
Crrrack—
The thick ice beneath her feet split wide.
A sudden sense of déjà vu struck her. This scenery, this situation… somehow, it felt familiar.
Where have I seen this before?
Crack—!
A thick horn punched up through the ice. Massive bone claws scraped the earth as they rose. A ferocious cold poured out in waves.
"Ha! Are you serious right now?"
Realizing why it felt familiar, Friga let out a hollow laugh. That so-called god really was a petty, small-minded bastard.
Pulling a stunt like this just because she'd badmouthed him behind his back — he was a first-rate cheapskate, no question. Probably the pettiest man alive.
——————…
A low rumble crawled up from its throat and rolled across the ground.
Blue light streamed from its eyes, and a dense cold bled from its skeletal frame. A single deep scar cut across its breastbone.
Friga's epithet: Dragon Hunter.
Her first and last quarry — the Frost Dragon.
——————!!!
The Frost Dragon had crossed the sea of death once more, and now it roared at Friga.
Woooong—
As if recognizing its prey, the Dragon Hunter's Axe blazed with light and trembled in her grip — as though it were desperate to smash the dragon's skull that very instant.
What's that?
Studying the Frost Dragon carefully, Friga frowned.
Strange markings covered its entire body — patterns that hadn't been there before. They seemed to dance on their own, or writhe like living eyes. At a glance, they almost looked like chains binding its form.
…Well. I'll figure it out after I hit it once.
Friga's mouth curled into a grin. So the so-called god had summoned the Frost Dragon just to tell her to go to hell…
Tap-tap—!
"I've already killed you once!!"
She kicked off the ground and lunged straight into the ancient dragon's reach. A skilled hunter remembers her prey. She already knew how to handle a Frost Dragon.
It had underestimated her. She would cut it down for all to see and prove her courage.
Whoosh—!
She brought the Dragon Hunter's Axe down hard enough to split the Frost Dragon's leg bone —
"Ugh!"
She stopped short.
Just before the axe could connect, it shuddered violently in her hands. Friga's grip shook roughly, and her dilated pupils locked onto the markings carved into the ancient dragon's body.
She gasped for breath and staggered backward. Despite the freezing cold, cold sweat had drenched her in mere moments.
"Sh-shit, for real…"
Wiping the sweat, Friga glared up at the thrones. How could she not curse? This was how they were going to play it? Seriously?
——————…!!
The Frost Dragon looked at Friga and seemed to laugh — a dry, rattling sound. As if it knew exactly what she was going through, it struck a posture of pure mockery.
Grind—
A vein pulsed at her temple. Her teeth clenched. Even so, she couldn't rush in recklessly.
— Friga… my baby…
— My lady, please save me… please save me!
Those markings on the ancient dragon's body were showing her visions. Utterly vile visions.
Swipe — swipe—
I scrolled down the trial list, skimming through the options. Friga's turn. She needed to climb fairly high in the rankings, so I planned to give her something reasonably easy.
What's easy for a barbarian warrior?
Aggressive, destructive image — and from what I'd seen of Friga's fighting style so far, it wasn't far off. Smash things with an axe. Pulverize them.
So… a trash mob wave? No — if she ends up unable to use skills like last time, that could go badly.
A trash mob wave seemed like the easiest option, but given what happened with Iscal, I needed to be careful. Even if it was supposed to be easy, the fact that I couldn't use skills made me uneasy.
Swipe — swipe—
I kept scrolling. Then a name caught my eye.
Guest's Trial
The good do not come, and those who come are not good. It is time to receive your guest.
"Guest…?"
A trial with a cryptic, riddle-like name. The others had been straightforward — Trial of the Rock, Trial of the Serpent, that sort of thing.
I tapped it without thinking, just wanting a closer look at the details —
Guest's Trial… Challenger: Friga!
"Wait! Hold on!! It starts immediately without even a confirmation?!"
No confirmation message asking if I was sure — it just launched. I hammered every corner of the screen, but a trial already underway wouldn't stop. Auto-save meant even force-quitting the game wouldn't roll it back.
"Damn it, seriously…"
I swallowed the rising frustration and forced myself to stay calm. It was probably nothing. Guest's Trial… just from the name, a guest was coming. It had to be some easy, uneventful trial.
This garbage game, I swear. How do you not even put up a confirmation message before starting something?
— Crack! Crackle—!
Ice spread across the Coliseum floor. Before long the entire duel ground was sealed in thick ice, which split open with a series of sharp cracks — and through the gaps, a massive horn surged upward.
And then… familiar bone claws gripped the earth and hauled a colossal body free.
"Huh…? Ah?"
A dumb sound slipped out of my mouth.
Those bones… that entrance, bursting up through the ground… a familiar guest…
No. It couldn't be. It mustn't be.
My heart hammered. Cold sweat ran down my back. My fingertips trembled faintly. My breathing seemed a little short, too.
"Come on, no. No way. Right? No, right? Please, for the love of — this can't be…"
I denied reality. There was no way. It said "guest" — do people call this a guest these days? This couldn't be real.
I clung to the threadbare hope that I'd somehow misidentified it.
A shriek that shattered my fragile hope. I was one second away from a string of curses.
Eyes streaming blue light. A body of pure bone. Tattered, rag-like wings.
The Stage 1 boss. The newbie slaughterer. The Frost Dragon.
"Ah, for real… ha…"
Ugly memories flashed past.
The stun attached to its basic attacks. The wide-area breath it spat whenever it felt like it. Phase two adding aerial patterns on top of a ridiculous health pool.
The most vicious boss of them all — the Frost Dragon — was back. And it was Friga's trial.