The True Power of Glacia
"You... just what are you..."
Raon turned his back on Radin, who looked half out of his mind, and spun around.
A thunderous crash split the frozen earth. Five Sharkmoles erupted from the ground as if they had been waiting for that exact moment.
"KRAAAAH!"
The nearest one split its jaws wide and slammed them down, as if to swallow him whole in a single bite.
"Simple."
The Sharkmole's attack was as fast and brutal as it was crude—but to Raon, whose senses were thrown wide open, it looked almost sluggish.
He arched his waist back. The instant the Sharkmole's skull hung frozen in empty air, his sword traced a crescent moon.
The creature split on a diagonal, vomiting a spray of crimson.
"Grk..."
"Kieeek!"
The remaining four did not rush in. They had seen their packmate die in front of them. They dropped into low stances, claws bared.
"So they can defend..."
Raon crushed the frozen ground underfoot and advanced, whirling his sword, flooding the air with killing intent.
"Won't matter."
He kicked off the earth and charged. The Sharkmoles struck as one, as if they had been waiting for it, claws crashing down.
I figured as much.
Monsters that fought on instinct, no matter how they tried to hold a line. He had known they would not be able to wait.
A slight twist of his shoulder was enough to slip the attacks. His sword shot forward.
The blade, glowing cherry-red, tore the Sharkmole on his right clean in half.
"SHAAAA!"
Sensing the danger, the others came at him from three directions at once—fangs lunging, claws slashing.
Raon shifted the angle of his ankle three times, and the attacks flowed past him like water.
What is this?
His senses had sharpened as if the very surface of his skin had expanded. He could feel how every muscle in the Sharkmoles moved, where their claws were aimed, how much force sat in their jaws—all of it as clear as if he were holding it in his hands.
So this is the true power of Glacia.
It felt as though his skin had become the space itself. Not merely for scouting—drawing his senses to their absolute peak in the middle of combat. That, it seemed, was Glacia's real purpose.
"SHAAAAA!"
"KRAAAAH!"
He slipped the crashing wave of attacks by a hair's breadth and thrust. A red blossom unfurled along his blade and opened a Sharkmole's throat.
When he punched through the heart of the fourth, which had charged him like a bull, the last one turned and dove back into the hole it had come from.
The ground rumbled. The creature raised its fin and fled toward the North Sea.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Raon set down his sword and drew the Requiem Sword from his waist. He pinched the blade between thumb and forefinger and raised the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames to its extreme.
He closed his eyes and opened the Sea of Senses once more. The panicked breathing of the fleeing Sharkmole rang in his ears.
He could almost see it thrashing its limbs in terror. He calculated direction and distance, then loosed the flying-dagger technique he had learned in his previous life.
The Requiem Sword streaked out on a line of crimson demonic energy, split the earth, and punched through the Sharkmole's skull.
Scarlet blood fountained from the hole the blade had made.
It's over.
Raon walked to where the last Sharkmole had died and pulled the Requiem Sword free.
The blade hummed, as if asking whether it had done well.
Yeah. You did great.
Raon snorted a laugh and wiped the blood from the steel.
"Well done? Hardly. A dagger that can't even manage that has no right to exist."
Wrath's tone was dismissive, as if the whole thing had been nothing.
The Requiem Sword trembled, a little shiver that looked for all the world like a snicker aimed at Wrath.
"What was that?! This King cannot? A paltry little trinket dares—!"
Wrath, having interpreted the sword's meaning, hauled his rage up from the depths.
No. That's not it.
Raon soothed the vibrating Requiem Sword and Wrath, who was pouring off cold.
You helped a lot when I killed that last Sharkmole.
"Hm?"
Glacia—the one you taught me. I honed my senses with it, then measured the Sharkmole's position. That's how I landed the hit for certain.
"Oh..."
Wrath's mouth curled into a grin as he looked down on the Requiem Sword.
"Did you hear that? You inferior thing were nothing more than This King's arrow."
He sneered at the Requiem Sword and bloomed a round puff of frost.
It's an incredible ability, I'll give you that—but it's difficult, too. If the range had been even a little farther, I wouldn't have caught it.
"Nonsense! Making use of what you learned today is already remarkable. This King shall continue to instruct you."
The Requiem Sword rang out once more, as if to say it would teach him the finer points of demonic energy—and that he should ignore Wrath.
"Enough! You paltry creature, stay out of this. This King shall personally teach you the true essence of Glacia, so you need not worry! Demonic energy of that sort is nothing but sorcery."
Wrath rattled on that he would teach other combat methods besides Glacia, and that Raon was not to listen to the Requiem Sword.
He's completely forgotten about the bet.
Dangle a carrot, then a stick, in the rivalry with the Requiem Sword, and Wrath forgot he had even made a wager and declared he would teach the true essence of Glacia.
Raon had already stopped thinking of him as a mark. He no longer knew what to call him.
He snorted a laugh and turned around.
"Uh..."
"Whoa..."
"I-is this a dream?"
"He killed six Sh-Sharkmoles by himself?"
The scouts who had come running in full gear stood with their mouths hanging open, not even noticing that the bolts had slipped from their crossbows and fallen to the ground.
"Whew. Thank god it ended without us having to fight."
Only Dorian let out a breath of relief and patted his chest.
The moment the sun rose, Radin called off the patrol. Under ordinary circumstances they would have ranged for another two days or so, but he ordered a return, saying they had to report that Sharkmoles had left their territory and come up Sterin Mountain.
"What the hell are you, anyway? No—what are you?"
"Have you fought Sharkmoles before? You dodged every single attack."
"I thought you hadn't even learned aura yet!"
"Those flame-flowers blooming on your sword—that was your aura, right?"
The scouts glued themselves to Raon's side and poured questions on him without a pause. They were delighted just to have a new powerhouse arrive at Habun Castle.
"Ahem. Step back, please! Interrogating a martial artist about his abilities is rude. Rude!"
Dorian shook his head, having somehow produced a pair of thick glasses and perched them on his nose.
"I can't disclose personal information, but our names are Raon and Dorian, and we are definitely members of the same Third Scout Squad, so please don't worry."
"Holy shit. I actually got chills just now."
"Hearing 'the same Third Scout Squad' made my chest tighten."
"Same here!"
The scouts grinned, half joking and half not.
"Hey, Captain! You should say something too!"
"Yeah. We all owe him our lives."
"Ah, is that guy sulking again?"
Even as the scouts clamored, Radin did not look back. He just kept walking toward Habun Castle.
Raon watched Radin's straight-backed figure and nodded.
He wouldn't have anything to say.
He had refused to believe a new recruit and nearly gotten everyone killed. Even if he wanted to speak, he wouldn't be able to.
It couldn't be helped.
Something that had never happened here before had happened, and the one saying it was a green recruit. If Raon had been in Radin's place, he wouldn't have believed it either. In a corner of his heart, he understood the man.
Radin's endless stride finally stopped when they arrived before Habun Castle. He turned, stood in front of Raon with quiet eyes, and faced him.
"Hey, Captain! What are you doing!"
"Don't do anything weird..."
The scouts were about to stop him when Radin bent at the waist and bowed his head.
"Thank you. We lived because of you."
Radin's voice shook as he offered his thanks.
"And I'm sorry. I didn't trust you, and we ended up in danger. I won't hide behind experience, or behind the fact that it was a first. I'm just sorry—and grateful."
He did not raise his head until he had finished every word. The tremor in his voice and in his shoulders made it clear he meant it.
"I took him for a fool, but he isn't quite that far gone."
Right.
A veteran admitting fault to a new recruit and asking forgiveness was no easy thing. There was a reason Radin had the scouts' trust.
"Anyone in that position would have thought the same. It's all right."
Raon smiled faintly and helped Radin up. The man's eyes, as he lifted his head, were colored with surprise.
"You mean that?"
"Not many people would believe a story a brand-new recruit was spinning. I would have doubted it too. I understand."
"Huh..."
Radin stared at Raon with his mouth hanging open, eyes dazed.
"You weren't some weirdo after all."
"Pardon?"
"An angel! An angel come to save us!"
He muttered something unintelligible, then clenched his fist.
"To celebrate meeting an angel and coming back alive, drinks are on me today! Everybody to Frost Branch!"
"Ohh!"
"For real?"
"Since when does that tightwad treat anyone?"
"Let's drink till we can't see straight!"
The scouts shouted as they ran toward Habun Castle.
"Wow..."
Dorian came up beside Raon and shook his head.
"Those people are actually a little weird."
In the hand of the boy saying that sat a yellow apple that only grew in the southern provinces.
"Young master, you should have some too."
He held the apple out, saying fruit eaten during the day was good for the body.
Raon took it and let out a sigh.
You're the weirdest one of all...
Raon unpacked at the barracks, caught his breath for a moment, then headed for the tavern the scouts had named—Frost Branch.
"A tavern at the edge of the continent. How romantic. This King can hardly wait to see what food awaits."
The conditions here aren't great. Don't get your hopes up about the taste.
A tavern in a place like this had almost certainly been built for one reason: to let soldiers blow off steam. Expect flavor, and you would only be disappointed.
"You never know. We might stumble onto some new thrill, like mint chocolate."
Ah, that's a bit... hmm?
As he frowned and walked toward the tavern, he felt people's eyes on him.
"That the kid? The new recruit who killed six Sharkmoles by himself?"
"The presence coming off him doesn't feel that strong."
"His eyes look ordinary too."
"Still, I'd like to go a round with him."
"What kind of swordsmanship does he use?"
Wonder, curiosity, and the assessing look of people trying to take his measure chased him down the street. Listening to the whispers that followed, he understood what had happened.
The rumor already spread.
The scouts had clearly gone around telling everyone there was a new recruit who had taken down six Sharkmoles alone.
"Wherever you go, your name sure spreads fast."
"Tell me about it."
Raon snorted a laugh. Judging by the looks and the atmosphere, something interesting was going to happen before long.
"This must be it."
Dorian pointed to a ramshackle building near the entrance of Habun Castle. On a sign hanging half off its nails, the words Frost Branch were written.
They opened the door and stepped inside. The soldiers of the scout unit were already up on the center table.
"It was fucking awesome! He tells us to trust his sword, turns around, and cuts a Sharkmole down in a single stroke—that red blade looked like it was splitting the night sky."
The scout pressed a mug of beer to his lips as if his throat were on fire, then kept going.
"At the end he threw a dagger and smashed the skull of the Sharkmole that was running away. I've learned dagger work myself, but I've never seen that kind of power and accuracy. And then—wait. He's here! The new recruit who saved our lives is here!"
He pointed at Raon standing in the doorway, and every gaze in the tavern swung toward him.
"He's that young?"
"Is that really him?"
"That kid took down six Sharkmoles?"
"Huh..."
"I'm telling you it's true! He doesn't look it, but he's scary as hell!"
Raon let out a sigh and walked to the center table.
"What are you doing?"
"Spreading the word about our junior's ridiculous performance."
"When you come back alive from a mission, you're supposed to tell the story. That's how you survive the next one."
A seated scout grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Sit. Sit."
He pointed to the seat right beside him.
"It's obvious you'll be leaving soon. We just wanted to brag about our junior before you go. Don't worry about it."
"Right. You'll get posted to another unit before long."
"Let us show off a talented junior for once."
The scouts looked at Raon and Dorian with faintly regretful faces.
"We can talk about that later. Eat first. The captain'll be here soon."
"Yes."
"Innkeep! Bring out everything we ordered!"
They must have placed the order in advance, because the food started coming at once. Steaming stew, a whole roast pig, pizza, and fried chicken spread across the table.
It looks strangely appetizing.
"A place has a flavor of its own. Eat already. This King is drawn to that pizza first."
Right.
Raon ignored Wrath and was about to start on the stew when it happened.
The tavern door slammed open, and people in leather armor marked with a gray wolf poured in.
They did not so much as glance at the empty seats. They came straight to the center table.
"Are you Raon?"
A big swordsman with his hair swept up stopped in front of him.
"I am."
"I heard you cut down six Sharkmoles by yourself. I'd like to see your sword."
Clear fighting spirit burned in his yellow eyes. It was not the look of a man regarding a promising boy swordsman. It was the presence of someone facing a rival.
Battlefields always have men like this.
Battlefield predators who needed neither money nor honor nor conviction—who wandered looking for a fight and nothing else. One glance at those unhinged eyes was enough. They were here to fight.
"What do you think you're doing! He just got back—he's a new recruit!"
"Back off! This isn't a place for—"
"It's all right."
Raon shook his head at the senior scouts who had started to intervene, and stood.
"Even Cerberus doesn't get touched while he's eating. These maggot-like things dare—!"
This is a good opportunity.
To complete the Mad Fang Sword, he needed a great many fights. If people came at him instead of monsters, he would only be grateful.
Raon smiled, cold, and tapped his scabbard.
Where crimson eyes and yellow eyes met in empty air, a blue spark screamed.
"Just take one bite of pizza first. Please..."