The Magical Word
A fierce wind howled, whipping white snow against his arms. Just like always, the biting cold clawed at his cheeks, and a brutal chill that blotted out even the sun devoured Winterer.
"...Don't you think that's too much?"
"Sorry..."
"Rian, I wish you'd think about me a little more. I mean, I didn't think I'd lose or anything! Yeah, I figured you'd win this war easy!"
"Ah... yeah. Thanks."
"But too much is still too much!"
"S-sorry!"
"You told me to guard the house, and now you're telling me to move the whole damn house? And you send soldiers instead of coming yourself?"
Honestly, Rowen had no idea why Mio was so pissed. He truly believed that.
Mio flushed red at his blank expression and snapped in irritation.
"You don't even know why I'm mad, do you?"
"...Guys don't get it unless you spell it out."
"Hoo... you're hopeless."
"Sorry..."
Mio hung her head. Her pouty lips parted, murmuring so softly Rowen couldn't hear.
"...I wanted you to come yourself..."
"Hm? What was that?"
"Nothing, you idiot..."
"...What the hell. Seriously."
Mio grumbled under her breath. Her long red hair, streaked with natural waves, fluttered in the wind. Was it blowing from ahead? It plastered her clothes and robe tight to her body, accentuating every curve.
Rowen couldn't bring himself to look straight at her. Back in the day, it wouldn't have fazed him... But ever since her confession two years ago, things felt awkwardly charged.
Of course, he hadn't given her an answer. Because of Arahan.
It had been two years since he'd learned of Arahan's feelings and failed to respond properly. Giving Mio an answer now would be tantamount to tossing Arahan's heart aside.
"Ha..."
His head spun. Rowen wasn't trash, but his actions sure made him look like it. They called it stringing someone along. He had no intention of doing that, but his arms felt too narrow to hold both their hearts.
"Hey... you listening?"
"...Uh, yeah? I was."
"Liar. Look at you. Not listening again. What're you thinking about?"
Mio stepped closer. Something soft pressed against Rowen's chest. She savored his flustered reaction up close.
His looks were different, but inside, he was Rian Rose. Her piercing gaze saw right through to his core.
Warm.
...And cold.
It sounded ridiculous, but it was true. His heart held warmth. Yet something gave off a strange dissonance.
Revenge.
A barely suppressed emotion lurking within him.
Mio found herself stroking his body without thinking. Did she want to soothe that pain? Her cheeks burned at her own unconscious action.
"...S-sorry."
"Now you're the one apologizing?"
"I couldn't help it! I just touched you without realizing..."
"...It's just muscle."
"Still..."
"Still what?"
She couldn't say it was so manly and rock-hard.
...Ugh.
Touching a rational man's muscles for the first time. She knew he and Arahan occasionally got intimate. She knew Arahan occupied a corner of his heart.
But... it felt like something had been stolen from her. Touching his muscles only deepened that sting.
Arahan. That fox bitch gets this every night...
Mio shook her head vigorously.
No, that's too much. Yeah, they're both people too. Stamina-wise, it must be...
Tiring? Rowen had been the strongest in his hero party in his past life, and now in this reincarnation, he was closing in on that power. Arahan was strong. Disciple of that muscle pig... Her fighting style was brutish. And that made her even stronger.
So yeah. Stamina wouldn't be an issue for those two.
"Damn it..."
"Mio, you're acting weird today."
"This is all your fault!"
"...Why are you snapping at me?"
"Hmph."
Mio turned away and shot back at him. As always, she clutched a bottle of booze in one hand.
"...If you get it, come yourself next time you need a favor."
"Gotta?"
"Rian!"
"...Fine."
Rowen really didn't get it. His sighs grew heavier today.
*
Snowfall had become part of Valenos Castle. Or more precisely, Valenos Castle had moved to Snowfall.
The homeland that symbolized the North had been ruined by those Arkanthia bastards. Clinging to a lost symbol was foolish.
But the North's symbol hadn't vanished. The new northern castle, Valenos Castle, was the fresh emblem of the North.
And above all, Rowen himself had become the North's representative symbol.
The illegitimate son had won the support of many and shouldered the Valenos name. His very existence was precious to northerners—a benefactor, a king.
A pristine white castle of ice. A masterpiece by the grand mage Mio Lizfeldt, unmelting even by flames. Rowen's new home and outpost.
This massive ice behemoth gleamed at the heart of Snowfall.
In the small village on the castle outskirts, Snow Side, residents kept their bright spirits. Their happiness had shattered for nearly two years, but now they could rest easy. Joy lit their once-dark faces again.
Rowen and Lucius walked that path. Locals glanced, bowing their heads. Rowen waved them off—no need—while Lucius marveled.
"I'd accept their greetings."
"Not used to it."
"...Fair enough. Bastards get ignored in this world."
"Hasn't changed much. Northerners just trust and follow me. Doesn't erase that I'm a bastard."
"Not happy? So many love you... And those girls too."
"...Fuck... That's driving me insane. Good thing they were just bickering earlier. Otherwise, I couldn't even step out like this."
"Puhahaha! Amusing to me."
"Don't laugh. Wanna get wrecked?"
"Why so touchy? Sounds great—beauties all over you, and you reject 'em? That's what I don't get."
Rowen sighed. Even as former emperor, he was still a kid. Prime age for one thing on the brain.
"If polygamy was allowed, I wouldn't be a bastard born."
"Does it matter? Imperial law's basically gone—do what your heart says."
"Being king doesn't mean I can do everything. Anyway, Lucius. You don't wanna reclaim the throne?"
"No lingering attachment. Just an exorcist of Kalia Rune, smiting evil."
"...I see."
They left the busy, snow-free streets for the outskirts. A light leap landed them on a rooftop.
People bustled below. Kids playing. Youths aiding elders. All were the nation's treasure, its symbols.
People called Rowen the North's symbol, but without them, his meant nothing. To him, they were the symbols.
"Kalia Rune's a wondrous land."
"Pardon?"
"Unlike the North, its seasons are distinct—spring, summer, fall, winter."
He knew from his past life visit. Kalia Rune. Continent of yin-yang and exorcism. Known as the 'East,' its natural harmony was beautiful. Where Lucius had spent two years honing his skills.
In the capital Sabaha, he'd trained to block the demonic seed in Cain's body. Shedding greed, clearing his past. Renouncing all to walk the exorcist's path, becoming one under Kalia Rune.
Yet purifying the seed in Cain proved tough.
"...It was strong."
"Pardon?"
"The demonic seed in Cain rejected even my holy power that dismantled a golem's arm."
Mention of Cain shifted Rowen's gaze. Lucius's angry expression made him flinch. He continued.
"Arahan told me. You killed two prophets."
"Yes."
"...Investigations show three prophets left. But something's off."
"Off?"
"Seven Demon Kings. Why only five prophets? Muron and Tesiah served Lucifer. So maybe the rest are contractors of Lucifer too."
Rowen felt struck in the back of the head. Why hadn't he thought the same? Or he'd have forgotten anyway.
...The demon cult's goal: revive the Demon Kings.
And unify the cult.
Info gleaned from Tesiah's dying memories.
Ah! Rowen turned to Lucius, realization dawning.
"Unify the cult...? No way!"
"...What?"
"Unification!"
Rowen grabbed Lucius's shoulders, face grave.
"...Just my guess. But maybe the cult split into seven factions, each serving a different Demon King."
In other words: The five prophets followed the King of Depravity, Lucifer, handling the depravity branch. Excluding that: frost, abyss, depths, greed, lust. And...
'Demon.'
"True?"
"Just my delusion. But..."
"Fuck."
Above all, the cult sought Demon King revival and unity. But that was depravity's wish. Factions probably hated each other.
If true, big trouble. The depravity cult devoured Arkanthia—what were the other six hiding factions up to? If they had prophets too?
"No."
They surely did. Demon King essences were in Pandemonium. Like Lucifer made prophets, others likely contracted too.
Demon pacts traded soul and purpose—terrifying. Contracting a Demon King made one a demon lord with Four Heavenly Kings' power.
A perfectly shitty situation. Rowen grasped it before he did.
The magical word slipped from Lucius's lips, voicing his exact sentiment.
"...Fuck?"