Declaration of War
Veins bulged on Kudan Raguna's forehead. He had heard the story from Aum Linia long ago. Aum had met someone named Loki, only to return cursed, while Per Linia came back with his right hand severed. Thanks to that, whispers were spreading through the Linia Tribe that Valhalla Palace must be punished.
Aum had told Kudan, “…Loki, he claimed he was taming Kankun.”
Hearing those words, Kudan had nearly lost his reason. It was only because Aum calmed him down that he managed to hear the full story.
“He said he was protecting Kankun. Kudan.”
“Protecting her? Didn't you just say he was taming her?”
“That was just his ploy to provoke you. Stay calm, Kudan.”
“Aum, didn't you say he's a fraud pretending to be a god? And he cursed you too, right? That arrogant monster won't just leave Kankun alone. He'll cage her like a bird and train her like a parrot.”
“……”
If that counted as protection, then so be it—even if it meant suppressing her freedom and using her like a slave. Given Shaman's prophecy, the fraud would exploit Kankun to the fullest.
Aum hadn't been able to confirm Kankun's safety. But the rumors suggested she was living relatively peacefully.
'But that might just be because she's been deceived by the fake constellation.'
Just as those doubts crept in, an elder from the Raguna Tribe named Roden came to see him. He looked up at Kudan with a face full of fear.
“Kudan, we must eliminate or seal that demon!”
“……”
“Only then can we save Kankun!”
Roden thought to himself as he gazed at Kudan. 'Kudan has to hold that demon back!'
While traversing this frozen wasteland—or even after leaving it—that being might come searching for him. So when the Constellation of Sin turned its gaze elsewhere, he had to flee as far as possible. And the bait would be the Linia Tribe and Kudan Raguna.
Kudan had survived a battle with Loki once before. That should buy enough time.
“…Roden. Thanks to you, my hesitation is gone.”
The elder Roden's face brightened.
“Then…!”
“I'll kill that demon and bring back Kankun.”
“Kudan! You're a true honorable warrior of the Nod! Show that strength to everyone!”
“But your sins don't vanish.”
“……!”
“The elders who sought to kill Kankun—”
Kudan glared at Roden, axe in hand.
“—will all die.”
“U… uwaaaak!”
As Roden turned to flee, Kudan hurled his axe at him.
Kwajik!
Roden's skull exploded from the back, and he collapsed. Kudan approached, yanking out the axe.
“Kudan Raguna.”
Kudan turned his head and came face-to-face with a warrior from the Linia Tribe.
“Great Chieftain Aum summons you.”
“……”
“Lead the army.”
Gripping his axe, Kudan set off.
On the northern islands, amid the frozen wasteland, a tribal war erupted on a massive scale.
In history, skirmishes had dotted the frozen lands, but records of large-scale 'wars' were rare.
However, ten years ago, Erone von Ronia—the Iron-Blooded King known as the Steel Lord who ruled one of Britannia's mighty kingdoms, the Ronia Kingdom—led 100,000 troops on a conquest of the frozen lands. The records remain.
The reason? To claim the mysterious, unconquered territory, along with its vast mineral resources—and to etch his name into posterity.
That was all.
But that army of 100,000 met total annihilation—not by the Nod tribes of the frozen lands, but by other forces.
First, the extreme cold. Unaccustomed to a climate where even plants and animals struggled, the Ronia forces lost thousands to frostbite in a single day, merely from 'sleeping' through the night.
Second, supplies. Food, water, and firewood were scarce. The abundant trees wouldn't burn, useless as kindling, while relentless icy winds sapped body heat. Hunting for pelts was futile—the beasts were swift, clever, and few in number, far too insufficient for 100,000 starving, freezing men. Thousands more starved.
Third, monsters. The harsher the environment, the tougher the survivors. Cold-adapted monsters had thick hides and massive builds. Starved in the barren land, they assaulted the army day and night without respite. The troops, deprived of sleep, grew exhausted amid hunger, cold, and the terror of monstrous attacks.
Thus, just two months after entering, the army withdrew. Without a proper battle, half perished, the remnants limping home.
Afterward, the frozen lands earned names like 'Frozen Hell' or 'Unsurvivable Wastes'.
Yet humans endured there: savage tribes who preyed on each other even while hunting monsters. Each possessed superhuman strength—the mighty Nod race.
Continental folk feared the Nod, deeming them the hardiest of humans. United by thousands, they could challenge even empires.
“Kirytia Tribe: 150 elite warriors. Arrived!”
“Heral Tribe: 200 elite warriors. Arrived!”
“Verni Tribe: 125 elite warriors. Arrived!”
“…”
Nearly 5,000 such Nod warriors now gathered at the Linia Tribe. Chieftains of the allied tribes reported their levied troops.
Their arms varied by tribal specialty, all converging at a single command.
Aum Linia. Great Chieftain of Linia.
From the hilltop, he surveyed the assembling warriors, his gaze shifting to the Linia Tribe's 'ultimate weapon' positioned in the clearing.
'I traveled the continent to acquire that.'
It was Linia's strongest weapon—and now, the decisive counter to that demon!
“Are you really planning to fight him?”
To Per's question beside him, Aum replied, “Yes.”
By now, the one called Loki in Valhalla surely knew of their movements. He'd come himself. Reports already spoke of an undead army stirring from Valhalla city.
'He'll come to strike me and Kudan. Then we lure him to terrain in our favor.'
This was war. Exploit every environmental edge.
The site: the frozen lake. Solid ice like flat ground. Snow-covered, not slippery—and they'd train to master it.
Overwhelming numbers, diverse troops, terrain training. All victory conditions prepared—yet Aum felt inexplicable unease.
Many warriors. With sound strategy, even the toughest foe could be crushed—that was war's basics.
But… what if the enemy shattered even those basics?
'No, he said he wasn't a true constellation. Don't fear.'
“…Shaman's prophecy comes to mind.”
Once, Shaman had prophesied to Aum: “You must die. Else calamity befalls the world, and Linia perishes!”
Simple words, absurd content. Aum had been just fifteen then.
As Aum murmured, Per approached. “…Isn't that ancient history?”
“Yes. But if it meant now… I'd die, and my foolish choice would claim these warriors.”
“…Brother once said: Religion is human will born of faith. Force it, and it's mere superstition.”
“……”
“I think Shaman's prophecy is superstition. I'll… follow you, brother.”
Aum smiled bitterly at Per's words, glancing aside.
A man shouldered a massive hammer.
“At least with him, I can rest easy.”
Aum smiled wryly, recalling a fairy tale from southern Britannia.
It told of a hero who slew the demon king descending fifty years ago and became king.
“Kudan looks just like the hero from that tale.”
“He has to be. Only if he's the hero who slays the demon can we survive…”
“Yes.”
Aum nodded. “Time to send the missive and summon that demon?”
Preparations neared completion. Just call the demon forth.
In the opulently adorned Valhalla Palace, at the king's audience chamber's end.
Loki sat on the jade throne, unfolding a missive.
It was a declaration of war.
I cannot yield Kudan no matter what. We will fight an all-out war.
Come to the Frozen Lake.
One week. Kudan will meet you with five thousand troops.
Skimming it, Loki narrowed his eyes.
“…One week deadline, Frozen Lake?”
He crumpled the missive. Flames consumed it, leaving ash.
Next, Loki examined the map surveyed by Nod scouts. He checked the frozen lands Aum mentioned, linking to the southern continent at the lakeside.
Confirming the battlefield, Loki tapped the armrest, puzzled.
'Why choose there? No obstacles—just flat plain. Why?'
Overconfidence in numbers? Foolish if so.
Loki commanded 500 undead monsters, each worth dozens of Nod warriors.
If Linia charged with numbers, they might have a chance—but only if morale held and they didn't rout. Humans were emotional, swayed by atmosphere, especially in battle's pressure. Facing fearless wraiths? They'd flee.
Five thousand against hundreds… Loki's forces held overwhelming advantage.
“…Doesn't matter. I'll prepare thoroughly. Got tests to run anyway.”
Loki eyed the dwarf before him. The short, muscled dwarf bowed, awaiting orders.
“City construction progressing well?”
“Of course!”
“Not too hard?”
“We're grateful for the chance!”
“Good. Then… two requests.”
“Requests…?”
“Make some armor.”
“……?”
“For a girl.”
Loki waved a hand through the air. In one, a chunk of metal the size of an adult face; in the other, vast scaled hide. Both gleamed with subtle turquoise luster.
“Th-that is…?”
“Eltera metal. Nidhogg's dragon hide.”
“…!”
An unknown metal. Dragon hide?
Reran's eyes sparkled. No metal he'd seen shone like that.
Loki tossed them casually. Reran dove, catching them in panic.
Even holding them, their feather-light weight drew another gasp.
Loki spoke to Reran. “Make it.”
One word. Reran grasped the implication but stared, entranced by the novel ore and hide.
“…Make it, and keep the leftovers.”
“R-really?”
Only then did Reran's face snap to Loki.
“If you want.”
“Th-then I'll do my utmost…!”
“Obviously. Sloppy work, and you're exiled.”
“……”
Reran clamped his mouth shut.
“And one more.”
Loki's tone turned playful. “Or bring me cheap scrap instead of what I asked.”