Chapter 39
Chapter 39
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: Flower of the North Sea (10)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
— Hello? Can you hear me? I'm Terra Ernisten. What's your name?
— Hmm, it's not a translation issue, but it's not getting through. That's fine. I expected as much. I'll give you a cooler name, so don't worry.
— It must hurt a lot right now. I followed everything written in the empire's ancient texts, but summoning from an actual existing other dimension, not a virtual one, basically means reconstructing the body. So your current state is...
— Haha, good sense of humor. Yeah. Like a hamburger patty left out at room temperature for about two weeks.
What surfaced was probably his first memory.
— So, listen. You've been chosen as a hero. Beating those insanely ridiculous odds from an infinite multiverse, randomly.
— Don't blame me too much. I opposed it to the end. Even if humanity falls, grass survives, right? But those high-and-mighty folks didn't want to be trampled like weeds.
— The pope and the king will visit soon. And they'll offer their daughters or whatever. If you're into child marriages, it might be tempting?
The first thing that entered his sight was a blue ceiling. Blood pooled on the floor.
There were two people beside him. One kept talking to keep his consciousness from fading, while the other knelt in the puddle of blood, weeping endlessly.
— That girl? She's a saint raised by the church, but she seems a bit off. She's been crying nonstop since she saw you.
— Oh, you're moving already? The magic just started settling in, and you're quick. How about Louis? It means 'king of war' in ancient tongue. Perfect for you. The world outside is beyond chaos—it's apocalyptic.
He sat up. And reached out a hand without nails toward the weeping woman.
She burst into even sadder sobs as his hand touched her knee.
Maybe because he'd told her not to cry.
— Louis. Your hero's power will come from three sources. Based on the 'Three Primal Elements,' the great axiom of all magic and the origin of this world. One has already been bestowed, another is coming here now, and the last one you must forge yourself.
Terra explained the hero's three divine powers.
The oracle granted by the light god Hella.
The divine authority dwelling in the church's holy sword and shield.
And—
— Choose carefully. Once you set your conviction, it can't be changed.
A conviction to protect someone.
— Numquam Obliviscatur Votum. Never forget your vow, Louis.
— If you lose that heart, your mighty flame will vanish like smoke.
Clunk!!
“Ugh……!!”
I jolted awake from a sudden shock. It was inside the dark carriage heading to the North Sea.
The wheels must have hit a rock due to the rough terrain.
“You woke up right on time, sir. The coachman just said we're almost there.”
The small girl across from me giggled, covering her mouth. It was just the two of us in the cramped carriage.
“I'm Lily. And you, Uncle?”
“Not Uncle.”
“You look exactly like an uncle. Why are you going to Edenberry?”
“To smash the lord's face in.”
“Oh my gosh! You'll get arrested for lese-majeste!”
Lily, bored of staring out the window alone, chattered on regardless of my responses.
“My hometown is a small rural village down south. Bandits raided it recently, and I lost my home and money. So I'm heading to Edenberry to find work.”
“That's too bad.”
“I heard the Roshiar family is hiring servants. Recruitment starts today for three days. I'm determined to get in!”
“They probably won't hire country bumpkins.”
“Ugh, really! I haven't even had my interview, and you're already dooming me!?”
As the carriage slowed, I stretched my legs and loosened up. In the distance, the North Sea's crashing waves and islands came into view.
A massive castle with sharp spires rose on the largest central island.
“Well, if you're gonna apply, do it on the last day.”
“Why?”
I handed the coachman the balance and gave the kid named Lily a light smile.
“There might be a lot of openings by then.”
What is the reason for Roshiar's existence?
To become humanity's spear and exterminate the demons.
Since the founding Snow Duke established their unique magic path, the Roshiar family motto had never wavered.
Having always fought on the frontlines of dawn, the kingdom—especially the northern people—admired and revered Roshiar even more than Terra Ernisten.
Though they might not compare in magical realms, as nobles and rulers, every action of Roshiar was solely for humanity.
Countless had died. More knights and brave warriors than any other had their bodies sent into the North Sea's cold waters.
Before the Great War ended, and after, no family in Penheim had shed as much blood as Roshiar.
These were things medals from the royal family couldn't capture.
“We've arrived, family head.”
“Bring her here.”
Estelle Sylvestra de Roshiar. The empress of extreme ice, who became the demons' terror with a single spear, was the iron-blooded grand duke who bore all of Roshiar's sacrifices and stood firm.
In truth, public opinion meant nothing to her. From the day she learned Roshiar's unique magic, Estelle had fought for humanity, just like her predecessors. As all Snow Dukes had.
“……”
She gazed at her younger sister lying in the cold coffin.
The reason for extracting Adella Sylvestra's heart wasn't to reclaim past glory or solidify power as the North Sea's ruler.
Roshiar was simply that. A spear incomparably cold and sharp, piercing the enemy's heart.
Adella must become such an existence too. Because she was Roshiar as well.
Estelle placed her hand by her prone sister's ear. The day Adella, who couldn't escape—no, had stopped escaping—would wear the remaining earring never came.
Pretending to be a fool to enter the academy. Making a name in the magic tournament. Getting invited to salons. Debuting in high society. Her lifelong attempts to escape the family through marriage to a count had all failed.
Now, she would accept Roshiar's unique magic path.
A fragile heart emitting faint throbs.
Retaining karma. Toward it, Estelle extended her cold hand.
At that moment—
“Hey.”
A man's voice came from the entrance of the vast hall at the innermost part of the lord's castle, backed by the bell tower.
“How do you kidnap someone so flashy? Even my grandma's organ trafficking is stealthier than you guys.”
“Who are you?”
“Me?”
Dressed rather lightly, unfit for the North Sea.
Frivolous speech and a sharp smile.
“I'm the owner of the Pharenchia Academy canteen. Here for compensation for the mess you made of my shop.”
“Do you need money?”
“Nah, forget that. Isn't there a three-time thief convict lying next to you?”
The black-haired man, who came bare-handed without a single sword, pointed at Adella beside Estelle.
“I'll just take her.”
No sound of footsteps.
Estelle realized the outside was eerily quiet.
She slowly descended the stairs, extending her slender arm to the side.
Suddenly, a transparent spear materialized in the air.
“You speak out of turn without knowing your place.”
“My place?”
“Canteen owner, was it? Living in Penheim, yet ignorant of the weight Roshiar's blood carries.”
How strong he was to breach the outer guards and knights didn't matter.
From where Estelle's feet touched, thin ice slowly crept up the walls and floor.
A numb voice echoed in the frozen room, without even a breath of mist.
“Last week, fifteen Blue Rose Knights died at Cenrir Lake. I remember all their names.”
The voice didn't tremble, calmly reciting Bekel, Marsil, Selita—the names of the fallen.
“Two weeks ago, twenty. Yesterday, three more.”
Without resentment, sentiment, or sorrow.
“All because they withdrew from the frontlines for me to come here.”
Spoken as if addressing ice and snow.
“Do you know? The North, Roshiar, has paid immense sacrifices. As Penheim's foremost stronghold since before the Great War until now. Performing that role steadfastly.”
As her words continued, the cold frost piled higher. Windows froze, ceilings turned white, and the sound of warping metal filled the room.
“Some melted entirely from black magic, others died scooping out entrails torn by beast claws. Yet we fought without retreating a single step.”
Freezing wounds to advance, freezing enemies to make bridges.
“We pierced the most dangerous Sulfur Fire Valley in Helzev, the screaming cliffs, the black night's ditches.”
Solely for the extermination of demons.
“Do you know, sir?”
Becoming Penheim's spear.
“We have lived in hell.”
The Snow Duke's spear pointed at her frozen younger sister.
“If two mages versed in the North's unique magic exist, sacrifices will decrease further. Not just Roshiar, but everyone fighting demons across Raviere Mountains, Cenrir Lake, Penheim entire—many lives will be saved at least once.”
Conversely, if not, more will die.
Thus—the Snow Duke declared.
“Do you now understand the weight of Roshiar's blood?”
Daring you. Do you have the justice to shatter this cause?
The blizzard cleared, silence flowed.
Estelle's transparent eyes never left Louis.
Like the dead. He stood with eyes quietly closed.
Then, a smile spread across his face.
The smile vanished instantly—not mocking anyone, nor holding back laughter.
Simply bitter, yet mournful.
“You're young.”
Brushing snow from his head, his face held childlike innocence—while harboring unfathomable darkness that startled even Estelle.
“Remembering the dead one by one. I've forgotten too many.”
Except the real fools—, Louis looked up at her.
“You know? History books say exactly what you did about Helzev, but people misunderstand it.”
The sun reflected in ice shards tilted. Estelle noticed the snow around Louis melting.
Raising her spear hastily, she saw her hand trembling. She couldn't comprehend the emotion.
“Lava lands, blood-soaked forests... Yeah, it fits, but demons die to swords like anyone. How could they Liv there? It's unlivable for humans, but Helzev isn't that bad.”
Still, no weapon in his hands.
Yet the weight Louis bore, the horrific chill from that one phrase—
“Lived in hell?”
Made even the Snow Duke feel her blood freeze.
“I created that hell.”