An Unopened Gift Box
Just another noble.
That was Larissa's first impression of Ian. One of the North's ordinary aristocrats—young for his age and clearly well-trained, but nothing beyond that.
Watching him talk with her brother afterward, though, her opinion had shifted a little.
My brother's friend?
They were close in age, and their skill didn't seem all that different. So she'd assumed he was cut from the same cloth as Johannes.
Thud—
But then he'd presented her with the Frost Giant's head. That was the moment her faint curiosity took root.
In a North where no one his age could stand against him, he was, at the very least, someone worth watching.
"Ian's different."
And now, she thought, watching Ian Rashid approach with his blade in hand.
He had surpassed the level of mere promise. He was still no match for Larissa Bahen—that much was certain. But considering how recently his name had begun to spread, this Subjugation Festival changed everything.
"How long have you been learning the sword?"
"A few months."
"Really?"
Pure curiosity. She wanted to know exactly where he stood.
Only a few months. Something that should have been laughable—and yet, as Larissa looked at him, she knew it absolutely wasn't.
"I'm coming."
Ian stepped forward, and in the same instant cold air whipped around him in a howling vortex.
Mana crystallized into ice, aura given shape through Extreme Gong. Layered on top of that was Frostfang, empowered by the Blessing of Frost—and what rolled off him was an oppressive presence in a class of its own, incomparable to anything he'd shown before.
He feels different every time I see him.
Tarian, watching from the sidelines, let out an involuntary sigh of admiration. Panoramas flashed through his mind—moments that had startled him, images of the boy relentlessly forging himself, growing again and again. The leaps had been dramatic. But everything Ian had shown until now and what stood before him belonged to different dimensions entirely.
I knew he was already at knight-cadet level, but—
At this point, no cadet alive could touch him. He displayed the kind of presence one showed only on the very eve of knighthood, and it left Tarian speechless.
"This is fun."
The corners of Larissa Bahen's mouth lifted.
She'd known he had mastered Extreme Gong. Whether their father had taught him or he'd picked it up watching Johannes meant nothing to her. The North bowed to the strong, and House Bahen stood at the very peak of those who did—there was no way her foundation would crumble just because someone had learned a technique.
Still, she hadn't expected him to wield it so fluently.
While her composure cracked and her rare smile emerged—even Johannes looked taken aback—
BOOM!
Mana-laden blades collided.
Two moves? No—more than that.
In that instant, Ian grasped the gulf between them. It held even at maximum output from Extreme Gong. The only reason he could trade blows at all was the power he'd scraped and clawed his way toward.
A prolonged fight is hopeless.
Their similar affinities let him last a little longer, but in the end, the difference in raw weight told. Ian had no choice but to aim for a short, decisive battle.
And that was something he had considerable confidence in.
"Hoo……"
The moment he inhaled, mana began coursing through his entire body. What bled out from him took on the shape of a wolf.
Then the surplus mana wrapping him flowed into Frostfang as well, and there it condensed into something very much like sword energy.
Not enough.
No one knew that better than Ian himself. It was no exquisitely honed blade-force crafted by an Expert who'd reached true enlightenment—just a crude mass of mana. But its sheer scale was overwhelming. Ice-crystal mana, plus an efficiency and affinity sharply improved by the Blessing of Frost and Extreme Gong.
Only months after taking up a sword……
Larissa watched the sight in silence. Even she, stingy with praise, had to be impressed. It wasn't sword energy, no—but a deep, biting cold was converging from every direction.
"Truly, this is fun."
She understood exactly what his stance meant, and the smile at her lips deepened. For nearly five years, this was the first time anyone had fought her head-on at anywhere near her own level.
"Come at me with everything, Ian."
The moment she spoke and stilled her blade, the raging cold around her stopped—just for a heartbeat.
Then a storm vast beyond all comparison descended, swallowing everything around it. What revealed itself through the devouring dark was a colossal moon.
Now.
Even watching that moon rise, Ian did not retreat. As his usable mana hit its ceiling, he lunged a single step forward.
CLANG—!
One strike, like a great moon hurling itself down from the sky. Ian swung with everything he had to stop it—
Crackle—
—and House Bahen's state-of-the-art training hall froze solid.
Tarian rushed to shield Johannes from the backlash.
"……"
Larissa stood unharmed despite being swept up in the cold. Ian, drained, barely remained on his feet.
The outcome could not have been clearer.
"As expected of you, sis—!"
"No."
Crack—
At that moment, a fracture spread across Larissa's blade. A hairline fissure, barely visible. But it was more than enough to stun everyone present.
"……"
Larissa simply stared at her sword in a daze.
She could have blamed the weapons. But Larissa Bahen had no intention of offering such a soft excuse. When skill was so clearly unequal, a wound in her blade was no different from defeat. At least, not to her.
"Again."
"What?"
"One more time."
At that stubborn voice, Ian sprawled on the floor burst out laughing.
So this is how Tarian must have felt.
He'd poured every drop of his crystallized mana into that single strike—not a wisp of it remained in his body.
"Alright."
But he didn't want to refuse. The drive to keep striving, to keep proving oneself—that was a feeling Ian understood better than anyone.
The subsequent bouts all ended in Larissa Bahen's victory, yet she was not satisfied in the least.
"Next time, once I've grown more, let's fight again."
"Promise?"
"Yes. A promise."
For his part, Ian welcomed it. Battle against the strong had always driven him toward growth.
"But the bet is……"
"You won. Fair and square."
The moment he saw her voice her frustration yet concede cleanly, the corners of Ian's mouth curled up.
"Then you'll help me?"
"Yes. Helping form the alliance, right?"
"No."
At the unexpected answer, a question mark settled over Larissa's expression. Surely that was what he'd said last time—and this was something more?
While she stood flustered by the sudden words, Ian continued.
"I want the North to never yield to any invasion."
Enemies would keep coming. And not just the Great Demon Invasion. He had to prevent the indiscriminate war the central Empire would ignite, stop the southern zealots from summoning their evil god, and deal with the corpse-rampage the western necromancers would unleash.
He had no intention of asking her merely to help forge an alliance and calling it done. He couldn't afford to squander a Sword Master–caliber talent that had practically rolled into his lap on so small a thing.
"You think something big is going to happen to the North?"
"……Yes."
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
"Could I ask you to grant me some favors for the time being?"
At that, Larissa regarded him in silence for a moment.
She had originally planned to leave the North within half a year. There was nothing left for her to learn from her family—she had already studied the swordwork of nearly every knight in House Bahen. All that remained was to gather wider experience, hone her mastery, and cross the wall.
"Fine."
She had no idea what those favors might be, but she saw no reason to refuse. To her, Ian was still a gift box she hadn't fully opened. Leaving the North could wait until she'd seen everything inside.
"Thank you. Oh—and I'll be returning Winterbane."
— What?! You mean it?! —
"Why?"
Even as two voices erupted at once, Ian continued without a flicker of expression.
"In exchange, could you give me the chance to use the armory in the training hall?"
It was an odd request. The training hall's weapons? Larissa could only find it puzzling. But for Ian, it was an offer he couldn't pass up.
I'd already formed Covenants with most of the family's weapons anyway.
Rapid growth demanded many Covenants. He'd been processing several a day—sometimes a dozen or more—and to Ian, every new weapon was nothing but skill points and stat gains.
"That much is fine."
"Then that settles it."
"Wait, hold on—you're really giving it back?"
— Finally! Home at last! Yohan, Yohan, I missed you! —
As master and sword clamored away in tandem, Ian let out a small sigh. The noisy Winterbane had given him grief more times than he could count.
"Did you ever see me lie?"
"No, you're my second swor……"
"Second?"
"Th-that is—you're a worthy opponent."
Johannes faltered mid-sentence. Then, the moment Winterbane landed in his hands, the grin spread clear to his ears.
"Ah—ahem. I accept your kindness most graciously."
"Save some of that courtesy for my sister."
"I'm plenty courteous normally!"
Ian snorted at the outburst.
"So, are we calling it a day for training?"
"Hmm, I should rest a bit first."
Tarian sidled up and asked, and Ian answered while looking at him.
"I could keep going if I refill my mana."
"Then in a little while, I'd like a bout with you myself."
"T-Tarian, sir? You said you'd be instructing me?"
"Ah. So I did."
Tarian finally remembered and moved toward Johannes, who pulled a faintly displeased face.
"This brings back memories. Training under you was a fine time, truly……"
"House Bahen has many fine knights besides me."
"Of course, but still."
"Then I shall have to make it feel like old times. Come along, please."
And with that, Ian handed Winterbane back once and for all.
Johannes's training—postponed for the bouts between Ian and Larissa—began at last.
"Oh, and Ian."
"Yes?"
"You'd better prepare yourself."
"……?"
Prepare for what? The words left Ian puzzled.
Can't be about martial power.
While he pondered what she could mean, Larissa's face returned to its usual blankness as she went on.
"Father has taken a liking to you."
"What should I prepare, then?"
"A title. A fief. Things like that."