Chapter 152: The Tyrant of Winter's Wrath (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 152: The Tyrant of Winter's Wrath (1)
“Rami…?”
Azyeth’s eyes went wide.
The last place Azyeth had seen Karami was on top of a cliff. But the place he had just walked out of was the inner gate of the fortress, the same one Balkrash had emerged from.
From Azyeth’s perspective, it was as if he had teleported.
Of course, it wasn’t teleportation. Karami had simply snuck in through the underground, an honest approach.
It might seem contradictory to call sneaking in ‘honest,’ but considering Karami’s lack of martial prowess, it was indeed the honest way.
After all, no one in their right mind would even think of sneaking into an orc fortress.
Though, as always, Karami was perfectly sane.
“And who the hell are you?”
“You don’t need to know. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”
A thick, blue vein bulged on Balkrash’s forehead. How dare this scrawny human whelp speak to me, the Overlord of the North?
Balkrash unleashed a terrifying killing intent, enough to tear Karami to shreds, but Karami, who was completely ignorant of the martial arts, couldn’t feel a thing.
With a leisurely gait and his hands clasped behind his back, he walked over to Azyeth. He smiled brightly and spoke in a cheerful voice.
“Well, our work here is done, so let’s head back.”
“…Huh?”
“I’ve found everything we need. I’ll even get the music box for you, so you can look forward to that. Let’s get going. I can’t stand the smell here.”
Under the gazes of countless orcs, Karami made a show of leaving the fortress before glancing back at Azyeth.
“Aren’t you coming?”
“But…”
Azyeth looked anxiously at the slaves surrounded by the orcs.
The orcs were still hammering away at the ice. The barrier protecting the slaves had grown visibly thinner.
It was only a matter of time before the orcs broke through and slaughtered them.
“Rami… those people…”
“Ah, the slaves? It’s too late for them. We’ll be in danger if we try to save them. It’s a shame, but let’s just ignore them and go.”
“What?”
“Why? Is there a problem?”
Karami tilted his head, a quizzical expression on his face.
“They’re strangers we’ve never met. You don’t need to worry about them, Lady Azyeth.”
That was probably the right thing to say.
At least, in Azyeth’s experience, it was.
To Azyeth, Karami was a prophet who always spoke the truth. Following his words made problems solve themselves and obstacles disappear.
So, his suggestion to leave the slaves behind must be the right answer this time, too. And yet, for some reason, Azyeth couldn’t take a step.
An indescribable stuffiness.
She was sure there was a reason, but she didn’t know what it was.
“Is there something you want to say?”
“Uh…”
“If you don’t speak up, no one will know. If you want something, say it yourself. I’m not going to coddle you forever.”
Azyeth flinched.
It was a cold tone, different from his usual self, devoid of any warmth. His gaze was flat and emotionless; even Azyeth could feel the sudden change in his demeanor.
But she didn’t look away.
There was something she had to say.
Something she wanted to say.
“I… want to… save them…”
“Who?”
“Those… people.”
“Why?”
Azyeth froze for a moment.
But she opened her mouth again.
“I… don’t know. But… they’re crying. They’re asking… for help…”
“And?”
Her legs wouldn’t move.
Her will had once been shattered, along with her sword.
“Will you… help me save them?”
But like gathering snowflakes in her palm,
she gathered her scattered will into a single point.
Azyeth pushed herself up, standing on trembling legs.
She was drenched in powerlessness.
Crushed by inferiority.
But at the end of it all, a yearning for growth began to sprout.
Like a tiny sprout taking root in the snow.
A will to put down roots in the frozen earth and bloom.
A beautiful, poignant resolve to stand up again in the very place she had fallen.
It was the first time she had felt such an emotion.
A tiny ember, melting her frozen heart.
There was still no clear path to victory.
The outcome wouldn’t change just because she stood up again.
But Azyeth knew.
She had an ally who would help her.
A master who was always on her side.
“I need… your help.”
The single phrase she uttered held a firm resolve that would not be shaken even by a blizzard. A smile spread across Karami’s lips.
As if this was what he had been waiting for all along.
And yet, he feigned indifference.
“Hmm~ I’m not exactly thrilled about this. There’s not much to gain…”
“…”
“But what can I do? My slave is asking for help. And it’s a master’s duty to help when his slave asks for it, I suppose.”
Answering slyly, Karami poured water into the chalice. The clear water turned a deep purple. He set the cup on the ground and stepped back.
“Here. Drink this.”
“…?”
“Drink it, and it will grant what you desire, Lady Azyeth.”
It was the third treasure he was supposed to deliver on Darka’s orders.
While Azyeth was fighting, he had put on an invisibility robe, snuck into Balkrash’s bedroom, and stolen it.
This chalice was no mere treasure. If the tiara was for decoration and the music box a trinket, the chalice was an active item that could be used.
It wasn’t a wish-granting artifact that could make any wish come true… but a cursed magical tool that helped the user realize their desires.
For example, if someone who desperately wished to be king drank from it, they would become a tyrant who eliminated everything in their path.
If someone wished to be with their unrequited love, it would cripple the person, leaving them in a state where no one but the wisher could take care of them.
It helped one’s desires come to fruition, by any means necessary.
From the description alone, it was clearly not a normal item.
Karami even suspected that the kingdom had fallen into its current state because some die-hard fan of the princess had wished, ‘Please let the princess live forever and ever!’
Thanks to that, the kingdom was destroyed, but as a result, Azyeth became a cryogenically frozen human who was still alive hundreds of years later. Captain Azyeth. The wish had, in a way, been granted.
Because of its danger, the item had been sealed away in the royal treasury, but it was leaked to the outside world when the kingdom fell.
The one who found the leaked chalice was an orc, freezing to death in the cold.
It was the Orc King, Balkrash.
“Human whelp. How did you…”
“Let me be clear, I don’t know everything. I only know what I remember.”
In other words, if Azyeth drank from it, the chalice would grant her wish.
Balkrash scoffed.
“You must have heard some ridiculous story. The chalice only grants the desires of one born with the qualities of a king. If a weak human like her uses it, nothing will happen.”
Karami met Balkrash’s sneer with a smile.
“I can assure you. There is no one more suited to this chalice than Lady Azyeth.”
Balkrash paid him no mind.
He decided to put an end to this meaningless charade.
He lowered his axe and took his stance.
Azyeth held the chalice.
Her gaze fell upon the purple liquid.
She didn’t know what it was, but she didn’t doubt him.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she drank from the chalice.
A cold, viscous liquid flowed down her throat.
Karami crouched on the stairs, watching Azyeth’s condition.
The chalice explosively amplified one’s desires.
Even the ugliest desires that would make one cast away their humanity to achieve their goal.
The fate of those who used the chalice was ruin.
100 out of 100.
1,000 out of 1,000.
Without a single exception.
However, if the 1,001st person to use it was Azyeth, the story would be different.
If it was Azyeth, who had no emotions, no desires.
And if the one desire that had finally bloomed within her was a righteous sense of justice, untainted by a single shred of malice.
Then the story would take a 180-degree turn.
Thud.
The chalice Azyeth dropped landed in the snow.
A few drops of liquid splashed out.
Staining the pure white snow a deep purple.
“Ah…”
A small sigh escaped her lips.
In the abyss of her mind, Azyeth felt it.
The will she had never recognized until now.
The desire to save those people.
Her forgotten royal disposition.
Fwoosh!
A blue wintery light erupted from Azyeth.
And.
“Ooooh!”
Far away, in the tribal chief’s tent at Lake Fortress, the tiara that Darka was clutching like a treasure began to emit a brilliant light.
“What’s happening?!”
Jorn rushed into the tent.
The tiara left Darka’s grasp and floated into the air, shimmering with blue light, before vanishing with a soft pop!
“Oh, dear God!”
Darka clasped her hands as if in prayer, tears of joy streaming down her face. She then shot up, grabbed Jorn’s hands, and began to dance around with joy.
Jorn, completely dumbfounded, couldn’t comprehend what was happening.
“Chief?”
“He’s appeared! He’s finally appeared!”
“Who has appeared?”
“A hero has appeared!”
The hero who would drive out the cold of Eisengar and defeat the evil dragon had arrived.
*
The vanished tiara now rested upon Azyeth’s head.
As if to declare her its rightful master.
As if it had returned to its proper place.
An ice sword had formed in her left hand. The once-empty pommel was now set with a gem the exact color of her determined blue eyes.
Balkrash had called her a weak human, but Karami knew the truth about her.
Azyeth was the true master of Eisengar, born with the qualities of a king.
In the timeline where she was not liberated, she was called this:
The Tyrant of Winter's Wrath.
Or, the Frost Tyrant.