Covenant of Frost

The moment those words left his mouth, the Great Warrior's divine form began to shed itself like a husk.

Watching it crumble away piece by piece, Ian let out a small sigh of relief.

"Whew."

By then, Tarian had already closed the distance and was looking at him.

"Young Lord."

"Ah, I'm fine, really—"

"You are, without question, insane."

At the slightly elevated tone, a clear step above his usual flat delivery, Ian could only stare at him with a dumbfounded expression.

"That's a compliment, right?"

"The finest compliment I have ever given in my life."

Tarian smiled brightly.

The messages flooded his vision in an instant.

The realm of a Master — the height one reached by raising a skill's proficiency past a certain threshold. In practical terms, the completion of the skill was now within arm's reach.

I didn't expect it to climb this high.

In the game, simply grinding proficiency would have been enough. But now that it was reality, the story was a little different. Proficiency was knowledge — and only by truly embodying that knowledge in flesh and bone could one be called a Master.

Besides, the realm of Master was no mere title.

It comes with several added effects.

Ian clenched his fist as he read over the newly added effect. For a brief moment, he simply reveled in the elation of having ascended to such a height.

"Young Lord, I believe it's time to move. We should gather everything."

"So it seems."

The ice that had blanketed the cavern was melting away, and the weapons frozen within it clattered to the ground one by one. In a few moments, the dungeon's collapse would begin.

"Everyone, get in here."

"I-It's over already?"

The soldiers filed in, their voices thick with disbelief.

"You there — do you see those weapons?"

"Yes, sir."

"Carry them out."

"...Sir?"

Even as he gave the order, Ian strode forward and claimed Frostfang for himself. The moment his fingers closed around the hilt, the ice around them began melting faster still.

"We'll need to hurry, then?"

"I'll help."

With Tarian joining in to marshal the soldiers, they made to evacuate the dungeon as quickly as possible — and that was when Ian noticed that the great sword the Great Warrior had left behind had not vanished. He grabbed that too.

Perhaps because they'd had even a moment's rest, the soldiers were in decent condition. They made it out just as the dungeon behind them began to crumble.

Grabbed everything worth grabbing.

Frostfang, and the great sword the Great Warrior had wielded. On top of that, he'd reached a new realm — Master. And beyond even that, his rank had risen from Sword Beginner to Sword User.

Along with it, a message had abruptly appeared before his eyes.

The covenant is... complete?

The thought surfaced on its own. He hadn't even dared hope for a covenant with Frostfang. From the start, it was a minimum Rare-grade sword — he'd assumed a far harder trial would be waiting.

And yet.

It's already been fulfilled.

Even as he reeled, Frostfang's voice followed without pause.

He had already earned the right.

So a sword of a certain rank could forge a covenant of its own accord, then? Well, it wasn't as if he'd complain — the training was his own will regardless. Besides...

"The first trial" means there are more stages to come.

That was welcome news. His means of growing stronger had multiplied — truly, there was a reason they called it a demon sword.

And the Blessing of Frost he had gained — its effect was simple, and staggering.

Attribute mana... and a frost curse?

Reading the description, it amounted to applying a freeze debuff to his opponent. Effectively, it was like having a built-in sub-skill. Frostfang itself already carried a biting chill, so the synergy went without saying.

Setting aside the improved mana efficiency entirely...

This is insane.

Besides, it was a Rare-grade skill — something he had never once obtained before. It was definitive proof that his standing had climbed a full step above everything that came before.

"Your bearing has changed, Young Lord."

"Has it?"

"Yes. You feel completely different from before."

For a while, Ian took Frostfang in hand and swung it this way and that. As expected, proper mana still refused to flow from him. His next goal would be tempering his mana — coaxing it into full bloom.

"Even so, it would be fair to say your swordsmanship already sits at the top tier of Sword User."

"Still a long way to go."

"...Indeed."

Tarian seemed about to say something more, then swallowed it and resigned himself instead.

Of course, no one understood the pace of his own growth better than Ian did. It was a level that defied all comparison to before — and yet he was still hungry.

I have to keep growing.

There was still so much room left to climb.

"Wow, what are these weapons...?"

"They look like the sort carried by proper knights, don't they?"

"At this quality? Swallow, gulp."

Greed crept into the soldiers' eyes as they gathered the weapons up. And truthfully, they were fine pieces indeed — top-grade armaments that the Rashid domain, always short on both budget and master smiths, could rarely hope to lay eyes on.

"When we get back, these will be distributed."

"...!"

"By merit, of course. They'll be handed out according to skill."

He intended to pour nearly all of these weapons out without reserve — though naturally, only after their covenants were complete.

"By skill, you say — then that means..."

"I-I will train! I will train harder!"

Drive began to kindle in the soldiers' eyes.

I was planning to just give them out to the men here anyway.

Better not to say that part, right? These were the ones who had already pulled a step ahead of their fellows by sparring with him. If they were going to train on their own initiative like this, what more could he ask for?

"Then let's head home."

After collecting the byproducts of the magic beasts they'd stashed around the cavern, they set out for the domain. Weapons and beast byproducts together amounted to nearly a full cartload of goods.

The dungeon hadn't been far from the domain, but it was late enough in the day that the return trip would still take considerable time.

"At this pace, we won't arrive until the small hours of morning."

"Better to camp out here and go back at first light."

They had cleared the dungeon, but the surroundings weren't fully settled yet. So while the men ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠made camp outside, Ian turned his attention to the great sword he'd just acquired.

This covenant had a different feel from all the ones before it.

A sword that wished for rest.

He means break it, then.

The sword had no desire to be wielded by another hand — that much came through clearly. Fair enough. He couldn't say when the dungeon had first appeared, but the blade had clearly seen long, long use.

"All right."

There was no reason to refuse the request.

Gripping Frostfang slowly, Ian brought it down hard against the great sword.

KAANG—!

"...?"

Tarian stared at him, bewildered, as if taken aback by the sudden eccentricity. The greatsword, already fractured like its late master, split clean in two — its service at an end.

With those words, the voice fell silent forever.

And so he had gained yet another new skill.

Its effect was almost laughably simple.

Oh, now this is...

A skill he had never seen before. Ancient northern warriors — in the game, they had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠existed only as lore, a bit of background flavor. He'd never imagined there would be actual skills tied to them.

On its own merits, this one rated highly. In effect it simply raised his defense — which meant his build's viability had climbed another notch.

And it boosts natural regeneration too, apparently.

The wounds he'd wrapped in bandages seemed to be closing at a remarkable pace — the skill clearly carried some measure of recovery power as well.

"Not bad."

"A fine sword indeed. Though to shatter a greatsword like that and walk away without a scratch on your blade..."

"Well, there's that too."

Tarian had apparently misread the scene, but Ian saw no reason to correct him. Even for a sword that was ancient by design, Frostfang had remained keenly honed.

Makes a perfect main weapon.

He couldn't exactly face the strong ones — the formidable enemies — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still waiting for him with training irons and wooden swords.

The night passed with the men keeping watch in shifts, and when morning came, they gathered up their spoils and began the journey back to the domain.

"W-We made it!"

A soldier's low murmur. After the grueling journey, the outer wall came ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into view — and the cry grew louder and louder.

"Ian!"

And there before it stood his brother, come out to meet them — Ian couldn't say how long he'd been waiting.

"Brother."

"You've returned safe."

Relief radiated plainly from Kain Rashid.

"Good work out there."

"It was nothing. You're the one who's been working himself ragged, Brother."

And truly, his brother's eyes were rimmed with exhaustion. But there was no time to dwell on it — Ian began showing him everything they'd brought back.

"Wh-What in the world is all this?"

"The dungeon's spoils — and what we took from the magic beasts on the way."

"Ian."

"Yes?"

"You are the blessing of our House."

With that, his brother pulled him straight into an embrace.

Ian had no particular taste for being hugged by men, but it was undeniably warm.

"The monsters near the domain are thinning out fast. We'll be able to resume trade on a stable footing now."

His brother went on, beaming.

"But enough standing about — let's get inside. The men must be exhausted."

"That they are."

"And there's something I need to tell you, as it happens."

"...?"

"An invitation has arrived."

With those words, his brother held out a letter. Its contents were simple indeed.