Brother and Bond
There weren't really any memories worth calling treasured ones between Rowen and his brother. Rowen was the illegitimate son, while Kael was the family's eldest, of direct bloodline. The maids in the household shunned and tormented Rowen. He accepted it as a matter of course. With his personality, he could have exploded in rage at least once and caused a scene. But he knew that would only drag his image even lower into the abyss. So he endured.
It was strange that the word "natural" even applied to a child. What shouldn't have been natural, he made natural. This stemmed from Pentagon's laws forbidding immoral affections. Under the administration of the empire Pentagon, the four continents maintained peace. They despised depraved lust and desire. It originated from ancient tales of the King of Lust passed down through generations. The third emperor had fallen for the King of Lust's temptations, sharing impure love. That event, heralding the prelude to war, birthed the law passed down since.
In a world with such laws, Rowen was an impurity that shouldn't exist. People said he brought foul energy. He bore that persecution and pain with his bare body. Even with memories of his past life, it was hard to endure. Adults were human too, after all. So he forced himself to hold on. He endured words that could shatter any humanity. Did I wield the sword for descendants like these? Doubt crept in, and he even resented Kadan.
Then, a single ray of light appeared. Kael Valenos. The firstborn of the Valenos family, the boy who didn't hate Rowen. Rowen grasped the hand Kael extended. It wasn't much of a memory, but he liked when Kael read him books. The child fumbled with tiny hands, playing the big brother as he turned the pages. Rowen held back a laugh. It was so fresh and cute. Even in a child's body, his inner self still bore the form of Rian Rose. In those moments, Kael cherished Rowen, enveloping him in affection. When maids tormented him, Kael protected him. He punished them so they'd never bother Rowen again and banished them from the castle.
Rowen felt that Kael Valenos was family.
"Rowen."
"Yeah?"
"No matter what others say, you're my little brother. So let those bastards' words go in one ear and out the other."
It was always Kael's line. Rowen chewed on those words every time. Such obvious truths. Yet those obvious words saved him.
"Got it?"
"...Yeah."
Maybe that's why Rowen's despair hit even harder.
"Say something...."
The faded sword oozed a chilling azure-crimson aura. Blue and red demonic energy. Kael's shield, laced with sorrow, already bore the energy of death. Despite Rowen's cries, Kael stood motionless. He simply raised his sword, swelling the ranks of the undead army.
Rowen's brow furrowed. Those fools fighting the adventurers—they were familiar faces from childhood. Some had gifted him sweets, others a small magic tome. Memories from Snowfall, where discrimination was lighter. They had given him piggyback rides. Rowen had whined to be let down, calling it childish, but they just played with their cute young master.
"Don't do this. Please...!"
Even the Seri Knight Order had become ice zombies. The wildlings turned into monsters shrouded in frigid cold, crawling the battlefield. Rowen bit his lip and smashed a skeletal knight with his fist.
"...Why are you turning your swords on me? Say something, damn it?"
He couldn't understand. No, deep down, he knew. They hadn't fallen by their own will. It was an answer even a passing dog could grasp. Rowen wasn't fool enough to miss it. That's what made it more wretched. Wretched turned to despair. Despair ignited fury.
Rowen's rage aimed at the King of Frost, sealed far away. That bastard couldn't see this place. If only he watched through their eyes—Rowen could shove it right up his ass. He glared at Kael overlooking him from the snowy mountain. Cold eyes devoid of emotion. His once-pure white hair, now withered and ashen. When he moved his hand, the death army moved. A power like the Four Heavenly Kings. But he wasn't one. Just a conductor.
Kael was strong. That's why, swallowed by the frigid cold, he'd gained immense power. He'd ventured to the frosted lands to investigate the threat. For family, for humanity. But when he returned, he'd become humanity's enemy.
Rowen swallowed his rage and kicked off the ground.
"Young master!"
"Back off, Arahan. Don't stop me."
"Such a bad habit...! I know you're angry, but it's too dangerous!"
"I know, I fucking know! I know it inside out."
"Then why?!"
"You know."
Rowen spat the words he'd held back.
"...He's my brother."
Blood ties. Even half-blood, he was family. Could a younger brother just watch his brother stray? Rowen had power. Those with power must know how to use it. Power unused—was it truly power?
Whether his attacks would land was uncertain. If he couldn't save him, couldn't redeem him, then freeing him from that pain was all that remained. No, he had to. Even if it wasn't what he wanted. Kael in that form wouldn't wish to live like this.
"Fuck."
Rowen cursed as he ruminated, sprinting endlessly through the falling snow. Transparent droplets blurred his vision. Tears or melted snow—he didn't care, didn't need to know. He only needed to grasp one thing: Rowen was drowning in profound grief.
Life was cruel. He wished fate would stay out of it. In this second life, family slipped away one by one, just like before. All gone. If this was fate's doing, making him feel such emotions, Rowen hated God. Turning him to rage, directing his sword at demons like this—God was a vile entertainer. But God also granted him power. That's why he hated it more.
Rowen had never believed in God. Even bearing the hero's title, God's proxy, he wasn't a believer. In his past life, he'd gripped the holy sword for revenge. Demon King or God—it didn't matter now. If they gave power, he'd use it to the end.
If a god of fate inflicted such trials, was that just?
"So..."
Not the holy sword, but a sharp blade of ice howled with frost. A blue line traced its path. When frost wailed, enemies wailed too.
"Get out of my way!"
"Kieeeek!"
Repulsive demon corpses flew. Rotten flesh fragments and blood splattered Rowen's frozen fur. Black blood stained the white cloth, red blood leaving streaks. Normally, he'd wash it immediately, hating the filth. But no time now. He swung only to reach Kael.
The closer he got, the more the death army swelled. Grotesque forms rose from the snow. Broken arms, twisted necks—irrelevant. They felt no pain. Soon, a great host loomed before Rowen. Unlike those the adventurers fought, a frigid army of pure ice zombies. Like Kael's frost mana.
"Arahan!"
"...Understood. I don't like it, but if it's an order."
"Thanks."
"If you're that grateful, reward me later."
"Anything. Just get me to my brother now."
Arahan shuddered. As his words ended, madness erupted.
"Hah..."
"What?"
"Nothing. Then..."
Arahan let out a brief ecstatic moan. She gripped Rosbriel comfortably. Golden light accumulated, then burst into red mana!
Valenos Family Combat Maid Arahan. I shall heed my master's command.
Rowen just ran. He trusted Arahan. She ran beside him, sweeping the swarming horde with ferocity. Not mountain-shattering force, but her earnest strikes stripped the snow blanketing the peaks, leaving them bald. The mighty wind pressure blasted over half the death army away. The gust even reached Kael, flinging his hair back.
"Even if they're the eldest young master's minions...!"
Arahan unleashed a second sword gale wreathed in sword ki.
"I won't forgive interference with the young master."
Boom!
An explosive roar unfit for a sword. Like a volcano erupting, it stunned all. Arahan snapped her fingers lightly, bursting the head of an ice zombie inches from Rowen's nose. Rowen felt reassured. At least until he reached Kael, he'd be safe.
Rowen's sword wind and Arahan's clashed, birthing a typhoon. Meeting the blizzard, it spawned a vicious snowstorm. Winds shredded the rotten flesh of emerging foes. Blue sword ki and Arahan's red—true red-blue unity.
"Kieeeek!"
"Get lost!"
"Begone!"
They leaped high with roars, slashing a foe mid-air. Its clean cross-section split into three, tumbling across the snowfield. The pair ran. Leaving the rear to adventurers, eyes fixed ahead. They spun their cores fiercely, warming their bodies. Amid the death army, they unleashed magic and sword. Rowen's rune words and spells summoned sharp ice meteors from the sky. Arahan's single strike exploded the snowfield, evoking a great warrior's aura.
The battle evoked two heroes from a millennium past. Great Knight Rian Rose. Great Warrior Uba Kaliarun. The bosom friends dwelled in their descendants. Rian reborn as Rowen craved magic. Uba took Arahan as disciple, passing his arts and ways.
In a fleeting moment, beneath the dark snowy mountain, past glories resurfaced.
With each step, death's aura adorned the surroundings. Towering frost giants gathered. The Seri Knight Order, revived as ice zombies, gripped broken swords, staring ahead. Wildlings awaited orders without rampage.
"...."
"Brother."
No reply came. From afar or near, he stared silently at Rowen. No emotions, no will. Merely the King of Frost's hound, moving. That was all.
He could speak. He just saw no need to converse with the human before him. Gazing at him stirred something, but it was futile. What use in recalling? He was but a soldier fighting for his master.
Kael Valenos's life had ended. Now, he moved only as the Death King.
"You joking right now?"
"..."
"Brother, you weren't this quiet. You talked more than anyone, loved stories. Why?"
"...Who are you."
"Hah!"
Who. That single word crushed Rowen's hopes. Expecting recognition was mere wishful thinking. He'd hoped proximity and words might jog his memory.
"Young master..."
"I'm fine."
"Your complexion is awful!"
"No wonder. Dad's dead, home's taken, brother's a zombie."
"...I am here."
"I always appreciate it."
That's why.
"Brother, pick up your sword."
Like always. As in childhood.
"Play with me after so long. Your little brother's request."
"...."
Rowen remembered. Before Kael left for the frosted lands, he'd stroked Rowen's head with a kind smile. Embarrassing, but not bad.
"We said we'd cross swords when you returned."
"..."
"We promised to watch Karin's swordplay together."
Then why.
"Why are you like this? So repulsive?"
Up close, the foul demonic energy reeked. Rowen hated demons. Heroes opposed them. God of fate decreed it. Biologically, revulsion surged.
"Say something."
"...Who are you."
Again, the blow brought tears. Heartbreaking. Knowing it wasn't his will didn't stop the curses.
"...Damn it."
So he raised his sword. If words failed, swords must speak.
—No other way came to mind.
"I'll say it again. Pick up your sword."
Rowen lunged, unleashing slashes at Kael's chest. At Kael's gesture, zombies swarmed. Arahan scoffed, tearing them apart. Corpses burst like fireworks mid-air.
"Only I may touch the young master."
Kael didn't move. He stared at approaching Rowen, gazing at his faded sword. He didn't know the throbbing chest pain. So he ignored it. Ignored until fully blocked.
"...Master of Frost."
Words unfit for Kael's lips emerged. To Rowen, despair incarnate. Words demon worshippers used for their lord, the King of Frost.
No choice now. Rowen gripped his sword with grief and futility. Kael moved too. The brothers broke the sound barrier.
"...Grant thy lowly servant the power of frost."
"...Remember me. Please...!"
BOOM!
Blue sword ki clashed.