The Secret Cave (2)
The moment he stepped into the cave, a thick stone door sealed the path. Rodeban planted both palms against it and shoved. A cord of muscle stood out along his brow, and a heavy grinding filled the passage as the slab slid inward.
When he had pushed it all the way open, a corridor stretched on into the dark.
"Shall we?"
He rolled his shoulders once, then drew the ducal token of House Crusias from his coat. He would need it to pass the Secret Cave's barrier. Without it, he likely wouldn't have found the entrance at all — which also meant he could stop worrying about ambushes for a while.
"Brighter in here than I expected."
Rodeban looked around. Blue glowstones were set into the cave walls at intervals. After a few minutes of walking inward, his steps came to a halt. A stone door washed in blue barred the way, and a sign stood to one side, bearing a brief instruction.
Emit your frost.
The Secret Cave was a kind of trial. Solve the problem at each gate, and you passed through. It was known as the training ground of successive heads of the ducal house, so most of the tests would involve their bloodline gift — the manipulation of frost.
"Easy."
Rodeban could manifest frost through his demon sword. Without much thought, he stepped up to the door and poured mana into the blade. Pure white frost gushed from the steel in a rushing hiss, drawn as if by a current, and vanished into the door. The slab seemed to have been fashioned from some special material.
"Hm."
He kept pouring, then cocked his head. The amount it wanted was more than he'd expected — far beyond the mana capacity of an ordinary knight.
Then, all at once, light flashed across the door. It opened of its own accord with a grinding roar, and the path beyond came clearly into view. Rodeban sheathed his sword, a thought drifting through his mind.
Pretty easy, for a first gate.
Past the threshold, characters had been carved into one wall of the cave. They looked like after-action notes left by successive family heads.
"Easy."
"Easy. Even a two-star could manage this."
"They actually called this a gate."
Rodeban huffed a quiet laugh. First gate or not, the consensus was that it had been easy — and that tracked. Anyone in line to become head of the ducal house would have been born with a deep well of mana, and raised on nothing but the best. A trial of this caliber wouldn't have given them much trouble.
"Hm?"
Then, all of a sudden, he found a line in what looked like the Grand Duke's hand. He had seen that distinctive script in a letter once, and recognized it at once.
"You well-fed little shits. I didn't have the mana for it, so I trained and came back."
"Huh…"
Rodeban's eyes widened a fraction. That, he had not expected. The volume of mana required hadn't been small, exactly — but given the Grand Duke's current strength, the note was hard to picture.
Did he come here as a kid?
Come to think of it, he seemed to recall that the Grand Duke had become family head at a relatively young age. The North had been a chaos of war in those days. In that light, the claim wasn't entirely impossible.
"…That's something."
It felt a bit like peeking at someone else's old diary. Rodeban started walking again, and before long a second sign came into view.
Create a flower of frost.
"…A sculpture?"
A single blossom had been carved into the sign. The shape was familiar enough. The petals had been painted yellow, and he named the flower without difficulty.
"It's a moonrise flower."
He glanced at the sealed door. A hole had been bored through its center — presumably the place to insert a flower carved from ice. Rodeban scratched the back of his head.
"So after emission comes control."
Sculpt a flower out of frost… He had never done anything of the kind. Until now, all he had ever done was dump mana in a brute, stupid rush. A faintly awkward feeling settled over him.
"…Let's just try it."
Rodeban sat himself down on the floor, laid the demon sword across his knees, and poured mana into the blade. He adjusted the flow so the frost issued from a single point, then caught the spilling white cold in both hands.
"Ah! That's cold…"
A chill sharp enough to snap his eyes wide shot through his palms. For a second he regretted the whole idea — but it wasn't unbearable, so he kept going, kneading the frost into the shape of a flower. The cold clumped together well enough. He watched the snowball swelling in his hands.
…This feels like making a snowman.
An hour later, Rodeban finished his ice flower. He did not look particularly proud of it.
"Hm. Is this even right?"
He scratched the back of his head with reddened fingers. If he was honest, it felt closer to a snowflake than ice… and he had a strong suspicion this was not the answer.
"I'll submit it first, anyway."
He slotted the snow-flower into the hole. The blue door flushed red. A heartbeat later came a popping sound, like something being launched, and Rodeban's hand snapped back on reflex.
What landed in his grip was a blunt-tipped arrow. He muttered to himself.
"…So if you fail, you take a hit and pass out?"
He frowned once — then looked properly at the arrow in his hand. The texture was wrong. Cold. Slick.
"…Ice?"
It was an ice arrow in the most literal sense, forged of clear, transparent ice. The clean precision of its shape drew a small sound of admiration from him.
"Right. You have to shape the frost itself with mana."
Of course. As if kneading it with your hands counted as training. Looking back, it had been a genuinely stupid idea. He gave an embarrassed little shrug.
Good thing I was alone.
If Luce or Elise had been standing next to him, the nagging would have been endless…
"Alright. Again."
He nodded to himself. He had a direction now. Time to try once more.
Frost spilled from the demon sword again. This time he would not clump it with his hands — he would control the cold itself with mana. Rodeban stared at the white frost until the blood stood out in his eyes.
He was a breath from hardening a rising column of frost into a solid chunk of ice when it burst apart, white cold spraying in every direction.
"Ah."
A sigh slipped out of him on its own. He rolled his neck from side to side, working out the stiffness.
"…This isn't easy."
Which, of course, it wouldn't be. What the Second Gate demanded was control over frost that had already been externalized — and from what he had been told, this was the training stage for reaching the four-star realm. Rodeban gave both his cheeks a light slap.
"Well. Let's try again…"
A crimson evening, the sunset pouring down. Back at the mansion, midway through her meal, Luce received a piece of news so absurd she almost didn't believe it.
"Mister went to the mountains by himself…?"
Elise nodded.
"Yeah. He took escorts with him, though. Don't worry too much."
"Sis."
In that instant, Luce's tone changed.
"Why didn't you stop him. I'm the one who guards him."
The usual sweetness had vanished without a trace. The voice that remained was bone-dry, as if she were putting Elise on the stand.
"Uh…"
Elise let the word trail off. Luce's face looked the same as always. The problem, as ever, was the eyes.
…This kid's eyes look a little off.
Those red pupils, overflowing with killing intent. Elise had no idea how Rodeban had managed to raise a creature like this.
"Well…"
She looked away for a moment. She had no shortage of excuses — that he never listened anyway, that there had been a guest in front of her and she couldn't exactly storm out. But the most fundamental reason was an unconscious faith of the he'll handle it somehow variety. In any case, Elise laid all of this out for Luce in a comprehensive explanation.
"Now you get it? Sis had her reasons too…"
"Sis."
Luce cut her off. She didn't give her an inch, pressing straight on.
"You've got a pretty sloppy side."
Elise's eyes flew wide, as if she had just been hit with a vicious insult.
By Luce's standards, it was close enough to a curse. All this time she had thought the girl was nothing but sis, sis and a streak of cuteness. Elise stammered, visibly shaken.
"You— you…"
Luce set down her knife and rose from her seat.
"Sis. I'm going first."
"H-huh? Where?"
Luce's answer was short.
"To Mister."
Elise managed an awkward smile.
"H-he'll be a while getting out of the Secret Cave…"
"I'm going in after him. You just make the medicine properly."
"Y-yeah. Got it. Be careful."
Elise watched Luce leave. A bead of cold sweat traced down her forehead. Facing that killing intent never got any easier, no matter how many times she did it. She had heard about Luce's true nature from that junior of hers, so of course her mind was churning with worry.
She won't… cause an incident, will she…?
Elise called over a servant.
"Tell the young lady of House Crusias I need a moment of her time."
"Understood. As for the contents…"
"No, I'll go myself. Can't even eat a meal in peace. Ugh…"
She shook her head and walked out of the dining hall. There was no not worrying about this. She intended to request reinforcements from the knight order.
Inside the Secret Cave.
"Let's rest a bit."
Rodeban lay spread-eagled on the floor, muttering to the ceiling. He had spent about a week obsessing over the ice flower, and there had been progress. He looked at the small piece of ice that had formed on his demon sword.
"I got as far as the stem…"
The thought of making petals next sent curses welling up in his throat and a tight, restless heat through his chest. It wasn't a lack of mana so much as a lack of skill. His gaze drifted to the firmly sealed door, and a thought arrived on its own.
"What if I just smash the whole thing."
He was still only thinking it. The feeling that the gate's trial was bound up with actual training refused to leave him.
"…Let's eat something first."
Rodeban pushed himself up and rummaged through the pile of provisions stacked against one wall of the cave — left there, apparently, so no one would starve to death mid-training.
"Ha. How did they stock nothing but the same bread…"
He heaved a long-suffering sigh and picked up a dry loaf. It occurred to him that he had been eating far too well lately. He shoved the hard bread into his mouth, eating in the most literal sense — to stay alive.
That was when a rumble shook the inside of the cave. It was the sound the doors usually made when they opened. The meaning of it hit him, and Rodeban lurched to his feet.
They're here already?
The Secret Cave's barrier had been designed by the founding head of House Crusias with a friend's help. That friend, according to the records, had been an eighth-tier mage.
In other words, a hair's breadth from archmage.
If whoever had cracked a barrier of that caliber was an attacker coming for him, this was about to get extremely annoying. It would mean the attacker's level was obscenely high. Rodeban swallowed the hard bread in a rough gulp and looked toward the entrance he had come through.
Did that Progenitor come in person?
Then, all at once, a patter of footsteps began to echo through the cave. A moment later—
"Mister. I'm here."
Luce appeared. A red gleam circled in her eyes. Rodeban stared at her, startled, and lowered his demon sword.
"…What are you doing here."