Winterbane and the Covenant

"Whoa……."

The belated gasp of a single noble broke the dam, and the assembled aristocracy erupted into a chorus of murmurs.

"What in the world is that……?"

"But wasn't he shut up in his room for a whole year?"

"From what I heard, he couldn't even manage Beginner before all this—and now he's at least Sword User caliber……"

"Did you see it? I swear the Frost Giant's hand froze over."

"Oh, come off it. A monster that lives in the snowfield, freezing to death? That's like a fish drowning."

The Subjugation Festival opening tomorrow was undoubtedly the main event, but today's session drew every bit as much attention—especially now, when the nobles who had gathered to cheer on their own children were soaking in sheer disbelief.

"And here I thought the Bahen line was nothing but disappointments. How delightful."

It was the first time the Grand Duke of Bahen had opened his mouth since stepping down from the dais, and at the end of his gaze stood Ian and no one else.

Seizing the Frost Giant's head as it rolled across the ground, I stowed it back into my pack. Had this been anything but the Subjugation Festival, I would have settled for an ear or two.

But if I'm going to do something, might as well make it unmistakable.

Blocking the Grand Invasion would take more than my own growth—I needed allies as well. Which made a spectacle like this essential for drawing eyes. Sure, a Frost Giant's head wallowing on the floor was pretty grotesque, but there was no way around it.

"You've worked hard, my lord."

"Ah, thanks."

Tarian hurried over and handed me a cloth. Admittedly, I must have looked ridiculous. As befit something called a giant, the bloodshed had been prodigious, and I was soaked head to toe in Frost Giant gore.

As I wiped my face, I felt the gazes around me.

Was that enough to make the point?

"Ian."

"So, hyung-nim—what do you think?"

"I knew you would pull it off, of course."

"You looked rather astonished for someone who knew."

"……We'll skip over that part."

My elder brother smiled and dabbed away the blood I'd missed. Judging by that reaction alone, I could tell: it hadn't just been enough. It had been overkill.

"The way people look at you has changed, my lord."

"That's the idea."

I stole a glance around the field. Others were sorting through their kills, but most of the hauls were unimpressive.

"What in the……"

"Lord Johannes isn't the winner?"

I let out a short laugh at the bewildered participants—then paused.

"Ian Rashid. Ah—no. Sir Ian."

"Hey, just call me Ian. Keep it easy."

"Ahem. Very well, Ian. A fine contest."

"Y-yeah, sure."

A fine contest? For a moment I wondered at the gap between us, but Johannes Bahen's results were genuinely respectable compared to the rest. Aside from his flustered start, his movements hadn't been bad, and he'd taken down several monsters including a Frost Giant.

But still.

At this level, he won't accomplish much when the Grand Invasion hits.

Well, that was neither here nor there.

"Hand it over."

"Huh……?"

"The sword. You said you'd pay up, didn't you?"

I held out my hand with a grin, and I could see his fingers trembling. As the direct heir of House Bahen, that blade was bound to be a masterpiece.

Not that it matters much to me. I have Frostfang.

Even a famed sword would rarely see use in my hands. The reason I wanted it anyway was simple: there might be an additional Covenant waiting, just like with Frostfang.

The sword pleaded piteously for its master, but alas, its voice never reached Johannes.

"Heh heh. You're mine now."

"……"

I could feel the strength in Johannes's grip on the hilt—his refusal to let go to the very last. The moment I all but pried it from his fingers—

The Extreme Cold Art.

The cultivation method that had raised Bahen to supremacy over the North—and an Epic-grade skill, no less.

"Hoo……."

The moment I exhaled slowly, I could feel mana coursing through my whole body more abundantly than before.

So cold.

Mana that had once served only to reinforce my body now radiated naturally from my skin. It was a wondrous thing, seeing my own mana take tangible form rather than merely circulating within.

"What in the world is that……"

"Ian, you've had a breakthrough."

"Congratulations, my lord."

Johannes, dumbstruck. My elder brother, smiling gently through his surprise. And Tarian, accepting it all with matter-of-fact calm, as if it were only natural.

I smiled at the pleasant chill spreading through me. The mental method granted by the Blessing of Frost paired perfectly with my mana attribute.

But that's not all there is to it.

If its effects ended here, it could never have raised Bahen to the heights it did. The true worth of the Extreme Cold Art lay in the fact that it was a growth-type skill.

And this "tangible form" was a slightly different concept from sword aura. Less a product of raw force than something closer to magic—a phenomenon that was, in effect, nearly a family trait in itself.

You can see it clearly in how Luke Bahen fights in the game.

I recalled how he hadn't stopped at wreathing his blade in aura, but unleashed wide-area attacks like massive freezing shockwaves. By that standard, what I'd just acquired was frankly unbelievable.

"Nice. My mouth's watering."

"……"

After a brief look down at Winterbane and its bizarre misunderstanding, I shifted my gaze to Johannes.

"Want it back?"

"A—a promise is a promise."

"If you want it back, just say so. I'm open to a trade."

The onlookers' expressions, which had been merely curious a moment ago, flooded with shock. I had, after all, walked away with Winterbane—one of the famed swords of House Bahen itself.

Not that I cared what they thought. The only one whose reaction gave me pause was my elder brother.

"You won it for fair value, so do as you like with it."

Was he reading my glance, or simply saying his piece? Either way, he smiled as he spoke. That was my elder brother for you.

I nodded and turned my attention back to Johannes.

I should use this opportunity to see him grow properly too.

I needed to accelerate Johannes Bahen's growth trigger, and while I was at it, wring out of House Bahen everything worth wringing. And if I could secure Bahen's cooperation as well—by whatever means necessary—all the better.

"It ended exactly as you predicted, my lord."

"I told you, didn't I? I have no intention of losing to you."

"Hm……"

Perhaps he hadn't expected those words, because Tarian suddenly broke into a soft laugh.

"You truly are a fascinating person, my lord."

"Ahh……"

At that, Johannes's eyes darted between me and Tarian. He let out a groan like a man whose beloved had been stolen away—hard to make sense of, really.

"Well, let's keep in touch now and then."

"Y-you'd really do that? As expected of you, my—"

"Hm?"

"N-nothing."

He'd lost his instructor to me, and now his heirloom sword besides, yet Johannes's expression was strangely peaceful.

Why is he like that?

The way he stared at me was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a little unnerving, but at least it read as positive feeling. Had it been hostility, things would have gotten tedious.

"Shall we go, then?"

The scorers had drifted over, and the tally began at once. Each Frost Giant was worth fifty points. Monsters from the left path averaged five to eight points, the right path ten to twenty—so my score was overwhelming by comparison.

"Th-the final tally…… one thousand points."

"Whoa."

Gasps rippled outward at the result, delivered in a trembling voice. Twenty Frost Giants. My own skill in felling them was admirable, but that wasn't the real point.

What's more impressive is that House Bahen had creatures like that just sitting around.

As I'd said, enough of them gathered could flatten a village. The fact that they were released here—and contained—spoke volumes about just how formidable the family was.

"Well, the championship is all but decided."

"See? I told you I was confident."

"Of course I believed you. Though I confess I didn't expect this much."

Honestly, I hadn't expected it to be this easy either. In the game, this was a score you'd struggle to attempt before your second year of play, at the earliest.

Johannes, in second place, had two hundred points. The gap was enormous.

I didn't realize the difference in caliber was this wide.

Thinking of the Grand Invasion five years from now, the road ahead looked awfully long. Worse still, the North, drunk on its first peace in ages, was actually in the process of cutting back its armaments.

"Well now, I never heard the name before, and yet he takes the crown. I'll have to keep an eye on this one."

"They say there's no brother like one's elder, but it seems the reverse holds too. At this rate he'll surpass even Baron Rashid himself……"

"Haha, enough of that—shall we not share a glass of wine instead……"

And so the nobles closed in around me. Some of them were the very same men who had sneered at me at the start.

Amusing.

I didn't particularly think ill of them. The original Ian had spent a year as a shut-in, after all, and keeping these men alive and well-disposed was simply the useful move. Besides, most of them weren't approaching over my current strength—they were sizing up the future, five years hence.

Given the way things stood, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠half of them would be dead in five years, though.

"I appreciate the kind words, gentlemen, but if it's business you wish to discuss, might I direct you to my elder brother?"

"Ian?"

I did feel a bit guilty—but matters of the household were, in the end, for the head of the house to decide.

"One moment."

Amid the crowd of nobles, someone was walking toward ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me. Frost-silver hair I'd seen before, an expressionless face approaching just as it had that day—Larissa Bahen.

"Ian Rashid."

Even spoken low, almost to herself, her voice turned every noble's head nearby. Some actually vacated their spots entirely; I flinched for a moment before memory caught up and I understood why.

The walking catastrophe.

The reason she wasn't in the North when the game began. Every noble present—and every knight under their command—had been challenged to duels by her, one after another, until she'd carved her way through the lot. Then she'd headed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠straight for the capital, climbing toward Sword Master. That was her personal story arc.

"It is an honor, my lady."

"……?"

She tilted her head slightly, as if puzzled.

"Is something bothering you?"

"Speak casually."

"Ah, I'm just more comfortable being formal."

She glanced briefly at Johannes, as if registering the difference in treatment. Unlike Johannes, she was someone I had every reason to be respectful toward. The mere fact that she stood on the threshold of Sword Master was reason enough to show her respect.

Roughly Tarian's equal right now, I'd guess.

Considering the considerable gap in their ages, that was nothing short of monstrous talent.

"The Grand Duke calls for you."

"I see. Understood."

"By the way—that sword?"

"A prize, won in a wager."