Nightmare of the North
Crackle. Lightning flickered across the spot where the bolt had passed, leaving a faint trace of electricity in its wake. The sudden surge of intense heat had melted the snow, and even the water it produced evaporated instantly, scorching the ground black.
“Hoo…”
I stared at the mark I had left behind and steadied my breathing. It had been a while since I last wielded lightning, so handling it still felt clumsy. Moving my body was far smoother than before—probably because I had kept using it constantly—but when it came to magic, I could clearly feel the gaps in my skill.
“Guess I spent too long as the Sword Demon.”
During my time in the Empire, I had sealed away every spell I could use and fought solely with swords and fists. It was only natural that my feel for magic had grown a little rusty. Even the battle I had just finished was less like a mage’s fight and more like a boxer wreathed in lightning throwing punches.
“Well, I’ll get used to it while I’m here.”
Magic’s fighting style was fundamentally different from swords or fists, so the awkwardness was unavoidable. Still, I couldn’t keep moving like this forever. When I had gone by the name Cheonroe, I had certainly used my body, but at my core I was a lightning mage. Since I had returned to the North as Cheonroe—not as the Sword Demon or as Kyle Amal—it was only right to show the world the full face of a mage.
If I had come to the North as an entirely different person, that would be one thing. But the request the Emperor had commissioned was clearly aimed at Cheonroe.
“The blue lightning that fell from the sky… and the white mask engraved with a lightning pattern.”
As I shook off the lingering traces of mana clinging to my body, a faintly trembling voice reached my ears.
“Could it be… Cheonroe?”
“…So one of them was still alive.”
I walked toward the source of the voice. There, an orc leaned its charred black body against a rock, breathing in ragged gasps. At a glance, it was clearly advanced in age, its face covered in deep wrinkles. Through detection, I could sense it was at the 5-Ring level. In their terms, a 5-star warrior.
“I should have realized something was wrong the moment lightning struck from a clear sky. To think you would return to this North…”
“…You remember me?”
“How could I forget?”
The orc, still breathing harshly, coughed up a mouthful of blood. The lightning that had incinerated even a 6-Ring wolf beastman in a single strike. Even if I wasn’t fully accustomed to wielding it yet, I hadn’t used enough power to spare the orc before me. It had simply been outside the main blast radius, and as a 5-Ring warrior chief, it had managed to endure a little longer.
In truth, the orc’s insides were already burned to nothing. It was only barely clinging to life. Soon it would turn to ash.
“You suddenly invaded our lands and drove away the greatest warriors of the North.”
The orc seemed to understand it was going to die. It abandoned all resistance and continued speaking.
“I have never forgotten. Not even once. The sight of you standing alone on the plains, calling down catastrophes to halt the Khan’s army…”
“If you remember that sight, why did you come down here?”
I didn’t need to look closely to know. The orc before me was drenched in terror. It was connected to one of the many feats I had accomplished five years ago while operating as Cheonroe. As far as I knew, the warriors of the North were a people who knew no fear. They were beings who would bite and tear apart their enemy even if it cost them their lives. To the northern barbarians, therefore, a warrior gripped by fear was a pathetic creature. Fear was dishonor.
Thus, dishonorable warriors could not step onto an honorable battlefield.
“Hah!”
At my doubtful question, the orc raised its voice.
“Why did I come down, you ask? There is only one reason!”
“……”
“To subjugate the cowards living comfortably in warm lands under the name of the Khan!”
Under the name of the Khan. I had not heard those words once since the Khan’s life was severed five years ago. I had thought I never would again. Yet hearing them now meant the information the Empire’s intelligence bureau had uncovered was apparently true.
Since I had already started, I decided to squeeze out more information and asked the orc another question.
“The name of the Khan. Has he returned?”
“He has returned. After completing his long journey, to bestow upon us the green lands.”
“But the Khan should certainly be dead.”
“He does not die. He simply departed on a journey for a time. The Khan is eternal. The Khan is immortal.”
Whether this was the ramblings of something on death’s door or the literal truth, I couldn’t tell. Come to think of it, conversations with the northern barbarians had often been difficult like this. I could obtain fragmentary information, but the moment I tried to dig deeper, they would start spouting vague, evasive answers.
For now, the Khan has returned to the North. Finding out even this much should be enough.
The intelligence bureau’s speculation had been correct. Simply confirming this fact was already a significant harvest. I turned away from the dying orc and began to walk slowly toward Winter Forest.
“…Cheonroe.”
Until the dying orc called out my alias.
“Lightning of the heavens. Nightmare of the North. Terror of all warriors.”
“……”
“The Khan has defied the heavens, transcended causality, and driven out the curse that long plagued the North.”
Strange words flowed from the orc’s mouth. They were not phrases a mere 5-Ring barbarian should be able to utter. Power dwelled in every syllable. Whether it had gathered the last of its strength on the verge of death, or whether simply speaking those words drew power to it, I could not tell. The orc speaking them probably didn’t know either.
Yet the orc continued in a trembling voice.
“The nightmare is over. We have overcome the fear you planted with the Khan’s achievements. Now it is the turn of that damned sky to descend. Cheonroe.”
Though its hands shook violently as it spoke, the orc clenched its fists tightly. I had wondered why the northern warriors—who considered fear dishonorable—would send someone carrying that very dishonor as an honorable vanguard. It seemed that with the Khan’s return, new rules had been born in the North. The rule that while fear was dishonorable, those who overcame it were supremely honorable.
I didn’t know why barbarians who had lived by the old ways their entire lives had suddenly changed their rules. But it was undeniable that their rules gaining flexibility only made things more troublesome for me. Overcoming fear to regain honor meant that even dishonored warriors would return to the battlefield and fight with even greater desperation.
“So he really has come back.”
Shattering stale traditions and giving the northern warriors a single clear enemy. Naturally pursuing efficiency in the process—that was the Khan’s way. I didn’t know how or in what form he had returned, but…
“The turn for that damned sky to descend?”
I looked down at the orc’s now-cold corpse and muttered its final words. I wondered if the dead orc realized how arrogant its statement had been. How it was not something a mere 5-Ring had any right to utter.
Probably not.
“……”
It was already dead, after all.
It would likely never know.
“Because such a thing won’t happen in the first place.”
I left a single phrase before the corpse that no one would hear, then turned my steps toward Winter Forest.
“Your Majesty.”
The one who stood above all men. The emperor ruling the largest nation on the continent. An 8-Ring Transcendent, one of the few in the entire world. Sion Frederia von Reikus.
“Your Majesty.”
The emperor, whose power and workload were so immense that even imperial nobles had to wait years for a single audience, was currently…
“It is time to open your eyes.”
“Mmm…”
Slumped sideways on the throne that symbolized imperial authority, fast asleep. Fortunately the Empire’s chancellor had shaken her awake during the ongoing meeting, but someone who had just been sleeping could hardly be expected to be fully lucid.
“…Where were we?”
“We were discussing the number of legions to dispatch in response to the Margrave of Forest’s request for reinforcements.”
“Ah, yes. That’s right.”
Once the chancellor reminded her of the topic, the emperor finally regained her senses and clapped her hands together.
“If the margrave is sending a personal request for aid, we must dispatch reinforcements as quickly as possible.”
“Yes. We are currently gathering three orders of the Imperial Knights along with the private forces of nearby nobles. Their estimated time of arrival is one week.”
“One week. Exactly what I told him.”
The emperor nodded slowly. The deadline she had personally given Cheonroe was one week. As long as the Empire’s reinforcements arrived within that time, Cheonroe would be able to head north immediately.
“However, Your Majesty. Is it not possible the margrave may be unable to hold for a full week?”
“That will not happen.”
The minister’s cautiously offered remark was cut off at once by the emperor’s words. Despite the urgency implied by a direct request for support, the emperor’s absolute confidence that they could endure for an entire week. No matter how long the Margrave of Forest had guarded the northern gateway, there was already a precedent of it being breached once. How could she place such trust?
“It seems you are under a misunderstanding.”
As if she had read the minister’s doubt, the emperor spoke.
“What I trust is not the margrave.”
She did not trust the margrave who had long guarded the northern gateway. Then who?
“Cheonroe.”
With that single word, the emperor ended the meeting. She left behind the ministers’ confused eyes—eyes that had failed to understand even after hearing the alias Cheonroe.
“Would it not have been fine to reveal a little more?”
The Empire’s chancellor followed behind her. Wearing the expression she always wore when dealing with the emperor’s behavior, she spoke.
“A secret weapon is only effective when it remains secret.”
The emperor casually brushed off the chancellor’s rebuke. Anyone watching would have been shocked that someone could question the emperor so directly, but for the two of them it was perfectly natural. The chancellor was known as the only person in the Empire permitted to remain at the emperor’s side. Naturally, she was also one of the few who knew Cheonroe’s true identity. That was why she could react this way. Because she knew exactly what kind of person Cheonroe was.
“Since you gave a one-week deadline, who should we send?”
“The Khan’s return has become all but certain. That will only increase the importance of that gateway.”
The emperor, who had been considering personnel options, soon recalled Cheonroe’s face and let the corner of her mouth curve upward. Then she slowly asked the chancellor a question.
“Where is the First Princess of Raziel Kingdom and the second star of Yeo right now?”