Unmelting Ice (1)
Dexter Crowman. The Midland murderer, the nightmare of the central frontlines, the Ten Thousand Beheader—a man known by these chilling nicknames. At his appearance, everyone in the cave froze in terror.
"N-No way... that can't be right."
Roin denied reality even as she trembled. But the gaze Dexter—no, Crowman—fixed on her was utterly cold.
"Just guide the way, girl."
Surprisingly, he showed no real fighting spirit. A Sword Master, the pinnacle under heaven, had no reason to get fired up against ordinary folk. Still, judging by his nicknames alone, everyone here deserved to be torn apart without complaint.
"......"
Swain gathered his party. Crowman jerked his chin toward them, as if telling them to take the lead.
The reason for his compliance became clear right away. Bats swooping in, massive eels lunging from nowhere, crabs the size of dogs snapping at ankles. The cave teemed with deadly monsters everywhere.
Crowman strolled leisurely at the rear while Swain's party cleared these beasts up front.
"Clear the path faster."
Swain whipped around at Crowman's irritated mutter.
"You after the unmelting ice too?"
Crowman scoffed.
"Wanna lose your head? Who said you could talk?"
"......"
"Just clear the path."
A bead of cold sweat trickled down Swain's temple. He suddenly thrust the torch he'd been holding toward the water's surface.
And he glared at Crowman.
"What if I put this fire out right now?"
"......?"
Crowman tilted his head. Swain pressed on.
"You'd be trapped in this cave maze too. No way you'd make it to the end."
Crowman burst out laughing.
"You think my eyes are like yours?"
"......!"
"I can see even without light."
Crowman's single eye flashed ominously for a split second. Meeting that gaze, Swain limply raised the torch again.
Rumors said a master's eyes could pierce hundreds of meters through pitch-black night. If true, threats like this were useless.
As Swain turned away with slumped shoulders, Crowman said,
"Old age makes you see things blurry."
"......?"
"I don't give a damn about that ice. Just clear the path."
He smacked a clinging bat dead with the back of his hand, grumbling all the while. Swain, Roin, and the rest felt a flicker of relief at his words.
That's when it happened.
While everyone's attention was on Swain and Crowman—
Splash!
"Aaaah!"
Roin, walking ahead, suddenly plunged into the water.
"Roin!"
Swain rushed to her spot, but...
Roin was gone!
"Wh-where'd she go?"
Everyone panicked. The water barely reached their waists, yet Roin had vanished.
"Something's under the water!"
Swain yelled. They all gripped swords and axes, bracing for whatever might burst out.
But after a dozen seconds... nothing.
Then—
Pfha!
Up ahead, someone surfaced from underwater. Everyone whipped around in shock.
It was Cliche, head breaking the surface.
"There's a pit in the floor."
His stern, serious expression clashed hilariously with his adorable face as he spoke. He'd somehow scooped up the unconscious Roin in his arms.
"Ugh, Roin, you idiot! We were worried sick!"
The group rushed over, faces on the verge of tears.
"The pit's over here, so watch out, everyone."
Cliche pointed imperiously at the water's surface with a haughty, cute gesture. Sure enough, that spot was a deeper, inky blue-black compared to the rest.
"Guess the pit's pretty deep, huh?"
The men hugged the wall, edging past it carefully. A few big crabs nipped at their ankles along the way, but their tough boots with reinforced iron greaves held up fine.
"Still, passing out from a fall that deep? Roin's such a scaredy-cat."
"If Cliche fished her out, it couldn't have been that deep."
"Probably just up to my waist at most."
Swain and his crew chuckled heartily. Only one person wasn't laughing.
What the hell are these morons saying?
Dexter Crowman stared at Cliche, his remaining eye wide open.
A Sword Master's eyes weren't like a normal person's. He could peer hundreds of meters beneath the surface.
Even straining his vision to the limit, he couldn't see the bottom of that underwater pit.
A blue hole. A brutally deep chasm plunging thousands of meters into the ocean depths. The eroded slant showed the current's force was no joke.
Divers' graveyard—that's what they called blue holes. Roin had been sucked into one.
And yet? Cliche had dived in an instant and hauled her out.
Through pitch-black, freezing water, piercing the darkness and pressure to drag out someone bigger than himself?
A chill ran down Crowman's spine. Was it the cold? Goosebumps had prickled his nape just now.
Did I see that wrong?
Crowman cocked his head. By his common sense, Cliche's feat was impossible. Not a scrap of mana from that puny kid—what could he do?
But whenever I think 'maybe I saw wrong,' it turns out I saw right.
Pondering deeply, Crowman soon shook his head. Not the time for stray thoughts.
Swain's party soon reached the end of the long cave. A vast chamber opened up, and the temperature plummeted.
Just standing there made their bodies shiver. Bluish hoarfrost clung everywhere.
"S-Swain, boss!"
Roin, now awake, pointed across the wall and shouted.
"Ooooh!"
Swain gaped in awe.
At the cave's end loomed a massive block of ice. Impossible to gauge its size—it was simply enormous.
"Is this the unmelting ice?"
Swain touched it with trembling hands. Obviously cold. And far bigger than expected.
"The unmelting ice from the legends..."
Everyone stared, entranced. It covered an entire wall of the cave.
"But how do we move it?"
Roin asked worriedly. Swain grinned confidently.
"Don't sweat it. I came prepared with 921 contingency plans. Let's start with the weakest, step one."
At Swain's command, a few men dragged over leather sacks from their backs. Sloshing oil inside.
Splat! Splat!
They slathered long strips of oil across the ice. In the frigid air, the sticky, semi-solid globs clung and draped over it.
"Ignite!"
Swain bellowed, and flames erupted on the oil blobs.
Sizzle! Sizzle!
Like someone farting fire from their ass, the oil made a familiar crackling roar as it burned.
"......"
Swain's group waited until every blob burned out.
But the ice wall didn't melt a bit. Not a single drop.
"Tch, as expected of unmelting ice."
Swain wiped cold sweat, grinning. Then issued the next order.
"Looks like that won't cut it. Wasting time and pages—straight to step 921!"
"Roger!"
The strongest of their 921 methods took the stage: explosives.
They slapped powder bags on the ice wall and lit the fuses.
"Hey, you might wanna take cover."
Swain warned Crowman as they retreated.
"......"
Crowman ignored him, of course. Then—
BOOM!
A massive explosion rocked the entire cave. Acrid smoke billowed.
Swain coughed and yelled,
"Did we get it?"
"Don't jinx it like that—whenever you say it, they come out fine!"
Roin scolded him. As the smoke cleared...
The ice wall stood unscathed. Not a scratch.
"Ugh, this is your fault for saying dumb shit, boss!"
"What'd I do?!"
"'Did we get it?'—that's basically a full heal spell!"
Crowman rubbed his temple as Swain and Roin bickered. Come to think of it, he was fine too, just a bit disheveled. He'd probably dunked his head underwater at the blast moment to weather the shockwave. A normal person would've been shredded, but not him.
"Step aside."
Crowman drew his sword. Swain and the rest bolted back like lightning.
Y-Yeah... a master's power should...!
Hope lit their faces. Crowman could smash it. First time his joining felt welcome.
A vein bulged on Crowman's forehead.
CRACK!
Silver light burst from his blade, slicing the air. It writhed like a whip, lashing the ice wall.
"Whoa..."
Everyone, Swain included, gawked at the dazzling display. This was the power of a Sword Master—one of the rarest on the continent.
But!
"......!"
Crowman's eye narrowed.
The ice wall... was untouched!
Still standing firm, without a mark.
"Such a material exists?"
Crowman stared in disbelief. Swain's group's faces darkened fast.
Ice unbreakable even by a Sword Master! Unbelievable, even seeing it.
"No way! Then we can't put out the fire in our village!"
Roin wailed.
"......"
Swain bowed his head gravely.
Then...
Tsssss...
Things got worse. Frosty killing intent billowed from Crowman like hoarfrost.
Aimed straight at Swain's party.
We're screwed! Swain's pupils shook.
Rumors said the murderer Crowman, once pissed, had to slaughter everyone in a one-kilometer radius to calm down.
Frustrated at failing to break the ice, massacring the party? Totally plausible given his rep.
"S-Stop!"
Swain stepped to the front anyway.
"......"
Dexter Crowman slowly turned to eye him and his crew.
Swain gripped his dagger tight from his belt. He could handle some mana, enough to lord it in the village—but against a Sword Master? Like comparing a gorilla to a stag beetle.
But no backing down. His comrades had trusted him and left the village for this trek. He couldn't let them go first.
I'll take at least an arm—no, a finger—no, a single hair!
Swain raised his dagger with grim resolve, igniting his will against Crowman.
"......"
Crowman stared back, face hard.
Right then—
Crack!
Something shattered behind them.
"......?"
Swain, Roin, the party—even Crowman—had question marks floating over their heads.
Turning, they saw Cliche standing there, head cocked.
Crack!
Cliche had pressed his right hand to the ice wall. Massive cracks spiderwebbed out from that spot, now shattering the whole thing.
Thud—crash!
From his fingertips, the giant ice block crumbled to pieces.
"......"
Crowman stared blankly at it. Cliche turned to look at him too.
"......"
"......"
Silence stretched, like a serene orchard path outside a village blooming with acacia.
Swain broke it.
"Uh. Hahaha! We did it! Our accumulated damage finally paid off!"
His explanation rang most convincingly. Everyone clapped and nodded—even Crowman nearly did.
Then—
A new spectacle stole their attention. The unbroken ice had shattered, revealing something inside.
"Wh-what is that?!"
Swain yelled, nearly fainting. Crowman narrowed his eyes too.
Emerging from the ice shards was a slender woman. Paper-white skin, golden hair cascading to her waist. Eyes like a tropical sea—blue. Her beauty lit the torchless cave, inhumanly radiant.
But most striking: her ears. Long, pointed ones poked through her lush blonde locks.
"An e-elf?"
"Nah. Elves are pretty and mysterious, sure, but not this level. And those ears are twice as long as a normal elf's."
Swain stammered. Just then!
The ice-bound elf brushed frost from her long lashes. Then slowly parted her elegant lips.
A clear voice flowed out.
"Wh-who... fi-fi... these... folks... wha~~t?"