King of the North
The vast snowy continent of Winterer. Just two years ago, it had been a single landmass, but now it was split in half, with Snowfall territory as the dividing line. The south had become a colony of the Arkanthia Empire, while the north stood apart. It was absurd enough that the north had divided into two paths, but the fact that this bitter reality was no lie made it all the more tragic.
A quiet, chilling wind howled. Snow whipped through the air, and massive glaciers crumbled. This was the land of frost. Two years prior, it was here that the heartbreaking clash between Valenos's eldest legitimate son and his illegitimate one had unfolded. Upon the earth soaked with Kael Valenos's fallen body stood a castle of pure white.
Knight in pristine white armor shouted in unison as they trained. Under their drill instructor, Arahan, they poured out blood and sweat in their efforts. Days that had once been mere brutish violence began to shine with time. Those who endured without giving up had each grown into skills rivaling top adventurers. Each one possessed the stats of a knight order captain. A realm achievable only because it was Arahan.
They had heard that her master was a great warrior and knew they were noble warriors who had inherited his spirit. Those who volunteered to guard the north, to exact revenge, to reclaim their homeland—they were reborn with sacred incantations. The power handed down from Kalia Rune synergized enormously with the north.
Once a hero representing Kalia Rune. The illegitimate son who inherited Winterer's spirit. Did they know of the deep bond tying them since ancient times? It didn't matter. What was important was that those two spirits were far sturdier than one might think.
"This place has changed a lot too."
The villages of the frosty land were no longer shabby. It was the land of Valenos, now overseen by a massive castle. That meant it was territory managed by the lord of the north—and that lord had declared himself king. The young king at eighteen. The boy lion who mercilessly executed those he deemed enemies: Rowen.
He bore no Valenos name. Denied a fief solely for being born illegitimate. Yet no one called him simply Rowen anymore. Even if he refused, they now addressed him as "Rowen Valenos." Many were the ones who had made him king despite his illegitimate birth. Why? There were many reasons.
To the north's people, he was endlessly kind. To those who lost family, he offered revenge; to those who lost homes, he provided shelter. To the hungry, he gave game and food; to the cold, furs and warmth. Above all, with the great mage Mio Lizfeldt as his guardian, what could be more reassuring?
Slowly. Without rushing, the north was steadily reclaiming its stolen lands. Mio always grumbled to Rowen that he was too slow and urged him to advance faster. But he opposed it. Hasty action was foolish. Two years wasn't enough to train every soldier to full strength. So he chose: Take time, but raise them strong enough to perfectly crush Arkanthia.
And now. The day of the decisive battle was one hour away.
"It's been a long time."
Seated on the White King's Throne, Rowen murmured lowly with half-lidded eyes, recalling his family separated from him two years ago. And the true royal bloodline.
His adoptive mother and father's legitimate wife, Miyabi. His half-sister Karin Valenos. And his half-brother—no, that idiot Cain Valenos.
...The young king of the Pentagon, now a fugitive: Lucius Dragnik.
Names he longed for, but he had no time to dwell. No news had come. They were surely settled somewhere, living well. That was all he could think. They couldn't return to this distant place anyway. To reach here, they'd have to pass through Albrin Forest and Snowfall again. Falling into the eyes of Snowfall's occupying commander would spell disaster. Especially Cain—that pest had been caught there once before.
Had they returned to the north, good news or bad would have reached his ears. Closing his eyes, he summoned the memories. Old recollections bloomed vividly before his darkened vision.
Long ago. Memories of living under one roof with Cain and Kael. Of the home in Snowfall territory they hadn't yet lost, shared with Arahan. Of the homeland where chilling winds blew, yet the sunlight was as warm as ever. Memories on that ambiguous line—not good, but not hated either.
When was it? Hiding behind the door, eavesdropping on their conversation.
He was supposed to endure because they were adults. If not for this body, he wouldn't have held back.
...If it were his past life's self.
Those were the days he endured.
"Brother."
"What."
"You've been hanging around that bastard illegitimate kid a lot lately, huh?"
Cain said to Kael with a sullen expression. It just pissed him off. He couldn't stand his brother being kind to some lowly illegitimate.
Couldn't even wield a sword, couldn't use magic, just a muscle-bound oaf. To him, nothing but an ugly runt.
"Cain. You need to be a bit kinder to Rowen."
"Me? Why the hell should I?"
"You're the same age. Born the same year, so why keep fighting?"
"You ignored it until recently too, brother."
"Not anymore. Now I'm looking at that child properly."
Cain gaped and let out a hollow laugh. His brother, who used to find Rowen annoying, saying this? No way. That illegitimate monster must have done something. Something for sure...
"Cain!"
"Eek!"
"You're thinking bad thoughts again."
"N-no, I'm not."
"Like hell you're not. It's all over your face."
Cain rubbed his face vigorously. Then he looked at his arm. Nothing there. He checked the mirror. Nothing written either.
"Nothing's written."
"Of course not, idiot. You think it'd be visible?"
"Gah!"
"Rowen was born later than you, but acts way more mature. So composed."
The words he hated most. That his brother relied more on the illegitimate than him. That pig-muscle monster...!
Gritting his teeth, he glared toward Rowen's room. Kael lightly smacked Cain's head.
"Ow! What the hell!"
"Caught you thinking bad again."
"Brother, you can really see that stuff?"
"Oh? Actually thinking it, huh? One more."
"Ack!"
Kael sighed at his younger brother.
"Cain, if you discriminate against others, you can't become a knight."
"What does that have to do with swinging a sword!"
"Everything. What do you think a knight is?"
"Heh, think I don't know? Guardians who protect people."
"Right? So can a guardian who protects people discriminate?"
"That's different."
Kael smacked his head again, harder this time.
"Ow, seriously, why!"
"You need a beating."
"Why me!"
"Pay for your sins. Big time."
"Damn it! This is all Rowen's fault!"
Haa... Kael thought. This guy's beyond saving.
Rowen felt the same. A wrinkle formed on his forehead as he thought it inwardly.
The scene he watched. A mix of satisfaction and irritation.
Even as an illegitimate, wasn't he human? Why discriminate, mock him just because of different mothers?
How long to endure? Surely the day his pent-up rage would burst.
"But..."
That day too, he'd hold back for family. Even striking, he'd pull his strength... weakly, just enough to cow Cain.
In his past life, he'd have charged without a second thought.
Was this because Belzebub had stabbed a sword in his head? He felt a bit more cautious now.
...Damn it.
Finally dredging up old memories, and all that came were shitty ones.
At least Kael had shielded him; if even his brother had badmouthed him, he really couldn't have endured.
...People gone now. People he missed. People quietly buried beneath this very land he stood on.
For his brother, he'd reclaim Snowfall. Before the demon cult approached the King of Severe Cold, he'd settle it first.
This journey was for that.
Rowen gazed at the White Silver Knights. All bore the familiar lion's insignia on their chests.
The Frost Knight Order. Once led by captain Kadan Valenos, with Kael Valenos as vice-captain—guardians of Snowfall. They had gathered under the Valenos name, carrying the will of those turned into ice zombies.
Rowen rose from the throne and headed to the castle gate. Naturally, Arahan and Mio followed.
Rumble...!
The gates opened, revealing tens of thousands of knights. All were experts emanating blue sword auras, incarnations of vengeance. True warriors who had survived multiple wars over the two years.
A familiar yet unwelcome feeling. A war against humans, but backed by the demon cult. Reclaiming homeland and purging the cult at once. Not a bad deal, all things considered.
His appearance silenced the commotion. Even without seeing his eyes, his rage and resolve fueled their spirits.
A sensation felt many times before. Blood surging through his unceasing heart! The signal that war began anew.
"All soldiers are on standby."
"Good work."
"...Yes."
He stroked Arahan's head. His way of showing thanks. The woman called Herculean Goddess showed a relaxed side before His Majesty. The soldiers knew the rumors too, standing silent.
The sky was impossibly clear. No usual snow fell. Saints called it heaven's wrath, but to Rowen, it wasn't bad. A gift from the heavens for them, he thought.
No dark, heavy clouds. No blinding blizzards. The King of Severe Cold's chill didn't touch where Rowen walked. Black aura from his sword shrouded the surroundings.
"Now it begins."
The starting point of the tale. The cause of all events. The familiar, longed-for homeland.
Snowfall.
"If we secure that place... we can meet again."
"We surely will."
"Yeah. Lucius is there too. We can meet."
"With holy rites, no need to worry. For now, focus on what's ahead—wisest choice."
"Right."
Rowen mounted his ice horse and slowly advanced before them. Young as he was, no one saw a boy. Incarnation of war, Valenos's vengeful ghost. They knew best what touching his reverse scale meant.
"For the north!"
Snap! Thud! Stomping and aligning, the ground trembled. Tens of thousands of voices drowned the sky.
For the north.
That one phrase changed Rowen's eyes. They showed respect for his presence.
The Frost Knights knew of Kael and Rowen's bond. Stories Arahan boasted during training, the war's very meaning.
Reclaim his homeland. But not just his wish. Theirs too.
Was Valenos alone in losing home? No. Not just Valenos resented Arkanthia for oppressing cold-hearted northerners, stealing homes!
We all lost. Just taking back what's ours.
Rowen saluted the spirited warriors. Their eyes burned with life. They feared the enemy but didn't tremble. Human, so afraid. But mustering courage not to shake—that made the strongest, no?
Rowen eyed the distant Arkanthia horde. Giant golems, flying ships. Revolting things glowing with green rune fragments.
He asked them lowly.
"Do you know despair?"
I do. That's why I move.
Knowing despair, I once froze; regret fueled my drive. Burying bitter grief, advance.
His ice sword declared to the heavens!
The ice horse reared front hooves and charged. The King of the North's voice boomed across the battlefield.
"Let war begin."
Three seconds. Then silence shattered in space-shaking roars.
"For the north!"
"For the north!"
"For the north!"
The ice horse dashed over snow, mana sword slicing paths. Hot magic fueled their fervor; fierce resolve clad in chill. The vast plain between Snowfall and the frosty lands.
Thus, the ravaging began.