The Heart of the North
“…….”
As Rionhart strode unhurriedly through the study, Arteon followed quietly in his wake.
A soft scrape, a tug—then a solid thunk.
Stopping before the bookshelf, Rionhart pulled out several volumes with an entirely casual expression and slid them back into place.
In that instant—
Rrrrrrrrrrk!
The bookshelf on the opposite wall slid sideways as if on rails.
“……?”
In the blink of an eye, a secret passage beyond the wall stood revealed.
Arteon’s eyes flew wide as he turned to Rionhart.
“What in the world is this—?”
Before he could finish, Rionhart gave a slight tilt of his head.
“Follow me.”
The passage was narrow at first, but the farther they went, the more it opened into a space far larger than expected. Spears and swords lined the walls, along with axes and weapons of unknown make—objects whose very purpose Arteon could not guess. He swept the room with a quick, assessing gaze. They looked ancient, yet a strange energy clung to every one of them.
Rionhart spoke without looking back.
“They’re not yours, so don’t go getting any ideas. And as you are now, they’d be of no use to you anyway.”
“……I’m not even allowed to look?”
Arteon’s mouth tugged down at one corner as he grumbled. Even so, his eyes kept roaming.
Rionhart pretended not to notice and moved toward a corner, searching for something. At last he drew a small box from deep within a shelf.
“Still here.”
“……?”
He rested the box on his palm for a moment, then opened it slowly. Nestled on soft suede inside was a peculiar pendant no larger than a finger.
Arteon looked at him.
“What is that?”
“It’s called the Heart of the North. That spear of yours…… it was once Vargas’s weapon, was it not?”
“……Yes.”
Just how much does this man know?
Rionhart lifted the finger-length blue shard and held it out to Arteon.
“There should be a socket in that spear that will take this.”
“A socket?”
Arteon drew Iglis with a puzzled look. Near the center of the rod-form weapon was a recess that matched the shard’s shape exactly.
Arteon’s pupils flickered.
I always thought it was just a decorative pattern.
Rionhart folded his arms.
“You’ve likely felt instability whenever you used aura. The stronger you became, the harder it was to control the amplified power.”
He jerked his chin toward the socket in Iglis.
“This will help a great deal. Of course…… this isn’t the only thing you still need to shore up.”
Arteon’s face registered open surprise.
“Enough with the startled-rabbit eyes and take it already. I’m only returning it to the master it belongs with.”
“……Ah. Yes. Thank you.”
Arteon carefully fitted the shard into Iglis.
Click.
A clean, satisfying sound rang out as the socket vanished, the shaft sealing smooth in an instant. A blue light washed over the whole weapon, then rippled away like water. Outwardly, almost nothing had changed.
Arteon was about to frown in confusion when Rionhart pointed toward the exit.
“Let’s step out to the training ground.”
They returned to the yard. There, Arteon took hold of Iglis and carefully let aura flow through it.
And in the next moment—
Kooom!
Aura surged through his entire body in a rush, flooding him with an overwhelming sense of stability. The uncontrolled waves settled; the scattered currents gathered into a single river of power.
Arteon’s eyes shook hard.
This is……?
His breath came a little rough. His whole body felt as if it were expanding; his heart hammered against his ribs.
Arteon asked carefully,
“……May I try using my full strength once?”
Rionhart’s gaze narrowed slightly.
“You could. But I’d rather you didn’t. I know how you feel right now…… but it’s still too much.”
Arteon’s mind was already made up.
“Then…….”
With that short word, he drew up his aura, recalling the fight against Krelmuk.
In that instant—
Koooooooom!
The ground began to quake violently around Arteon. The gathered aura amplified through Iglis—yet it was incomparably more stable than before.
A fierce light kindled in Arteon’s eyes.
If it’s like this…… maybe—
He clenched Iglis tight. Focusing every shred of his will on a single point ahead—
And then—
“Hyaaaaaaaaaah!”
Arteon kicked off the ground and drove Iglis toward his target.
Power erupted like a colossal bolt of lightning striking the earth.
KWAAAAAAAAAANG!
A tremendous explosion shook the training ground; a savage gale tore across the entire yard. The shock-absorbing magic circle shattered outright, scattering into fragments. The floor caved in; nearby pillars cracked and dust billowed.
When the thick smoke that had blanketed everything finally began to thin, Arteon’s figure emerged from within.
But—
Thud.
Arteon dropped to his knees. The stability had clearly improved, yet the explosive force just now had been far more than his body could bear.
“Damn it…….”
As if he refused to accept it—as if he found himself pathetic—Arteon muttered the words and collapsed to the floor, consciousness slipping away.
Rionhart walked over quietly and looked down at him. Even through the nauseating stench of dust, his expression did not change. And very softly, almost to himself, he said,
“I told you it was too much…….”
“…….”
Arteon opened his eyes with glacial slowness. The moment felt dreamlike; a dull haze clouded his thoughts.
“……Where—?”
An unfamiliar ceiling. Sunlight filtering through thin curtains glittered faintly, painting the room in soft gold.
Then awareness sharpened, and the previous memories crashed over him like lightning.
“Haa. Idiot.”
Arteon murmured under his breath, replaying everything he had done. And then—
“……I got arrogant.”
The newly obtained Heart of the North. Thanks to it, the flow of aura through Iglis had become astonishingly stable—so much so that the power he had used until now felt like child’s play. And so he had believed he could handle it. That he could unleash his full strength and endure.
Reality had been the opposite.
At his current level, perfectly wielding the aura of the realm he had reached was still impossible. The body Arteon possessed was not yet complete enough to keep pace with the power gained from Ether’s Heart and Vargas’s mana cultivation method.
He had known that—and still made the mistake. A momentary loss of composure.
On the battlefield, composure comes before all else.
Had he simply felt safe here?
Arteon clicked his tongue, berating himself.
Just then—
Creak.
The door opened. Rionhart entered, with Kairon right behind him.
Seeing Arteon awake, Rionhart asked,
“You’re up?”
The words had barely left his mouth when Kairon exploded from behind him.
“Hey, you bastard—what the hell did you do to trash the whole training ground? And you—how is someone your size this heavy? You think I should be hauling your ass around in this condition?”
Arteon casually ignored Kairon’s immediate stream of complaints and bowed his head toward Rionhart.
“I’ve caused you trouble. My apologies.”
“No need. The training ground can be repaired…… and some people only learn by experiencing it once for themselves. Can’t be helped.”
He came to the bedside and looked down at Arteon. When Arteon raised his eyes, Rionhart’s voice continued, low and firm.
“We begin training in earnest starting tomorrow. And I’m looking into the situation in the capital…… I’ll need to confirm it, but there’s a chance we’ll be moving elsewhere. Keep that in mind.”
Then he turned to Kairon.
“As for you—basic drills only until that body of yours heals.”
“I can swing a sword now.”
Kairon protested, face full of grievance. Rionhart’s reply was sharp as a blade.
“Denied. If you want to do as you please, leave this place.”
A short, unyielding refusal. Kairon’s expression crumpled in an instant. Cheeks puffed out, he stared at the floor looking ready to cry.
Arteon snorted a quiet laugh at the sight and nodded. Then he spoke to Rionhart.
“I’ll be in your care.”
Rionhart gave a brief nod in return.
In the north, on the plains of Belikezel, fortress construction was well underway.
Inside the central tent of the imperial camp, Velkain leafed through the report on his desk again and again. Short sentences. Stacked columns of numbers. Sectors marked in red. Nothing about any of it was calm.
Beside him, Claw spoke with an uneasy look.
“The timing…… could hardly be worse.”
“…….”
Velkain rubbed the edge of the report with a fingertip. Even in the bitter northern wind he had never been one to waver—yet now his face looked as though he were swallowing something invisible.
“Why now, of all times…….”
The voice was low, but the meaning in it was sharp as a drawn blade.
Right after Arteon had gone south. As if waiting for exactly this moment, the struggle for power between the two princes had reached its boiling point. And when the ones at the top fight, it is always those below who bleed. How many would die because of their contest for supremacy was beyond reckoning.
Then Claw said, firmly,
“You must endure it, sir.”
“…….”
Velkain lowered his eyes without a word, lost in thought. Watching him, Claw let out a quiet breath.
Velkain had always kept to the middle path, never interfering in others’ affairs. For years after his posting to the north, he had stayed out of politics in every public sense. Even while supporting the First Prince, he had never once moved his own forces.
And yet that immovable man was now prepared to take risks and act—simply because Arteon might be in danger. That alone was enough to shake him this deeply.
If anything happened to Arteon through the Second Prince’s schemes……
Perhaps……
The thought struck Claw that the Ogre of Benhard’s fury might turn not on the north, but on the capital itself. And if that came to pass—
Not only the north…… the Empire itself would be in grave peril.
An empire that had been one would split cleanly in half overnight, plunging everything into chaos. Claw swallowed hard without realizing it. Even imagining it sent cold sweat down his spine.
It must never be allowed to happen…….
But the longer he looked at the light in Velkain’s eyes, the deeper the unease grew in Claw’s chest.