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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Silverriver
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The atmosphere on the battlements intensified. The flames of war raged, showing no signs of abating. On the contrary, they grew fiercer, staining the walls with crimson.
The flames consumed everything, friend and foe alike, their heat undeterred even by Winter Castle’s usual chill. I took a deep breath, savoring the heat, the thrill of battle. My body burned, yearning to join the fray below.
“It’s time.”
It seemed I wasn’t the only one feeling this way. The Count stood up abruptly, his face flushed with excitement.
Whoosh!
Flames erupted as the oil the soldiers had prepared ignited. The boiling oil scorched the orcs’ skin, filling the air with the stench of burning flesh. In the distance, I could see the castle gates, holding firm. Thud. Thud. Orcs hurled themselves against the gates.
The Count stood before them, flanked by me and the knights of Winter Castle. We took our positions without hesitation.
-Creak…
The soldiers opened the gates, granting the monsters entry.
-Roar… huh?
The orc at the front, the one pounding on the gate, stopped mid-roar, its eyes darting nervously. Its face was a mask of confusion.
The other orcs mirrored its expression. They exchanged glances, then turned and tried to flee. But there were too many orcs behind them. Caught in the dark green tide, they were pushed forward, through the gates.
The knights raised their weapons, their blades glowing with various auras. The scent of war. My body, sensing the impending battle, surged with mana.
I joined the knights, my arm raised, violet Aura crackling around it. The Count stood at the front, his Aura a deep blue, yet far more complex. The massive spear in his hand pulsed with an even stronger blue mana.
The knights’ auras resonated with the Count’s, and the soldiers began to sing a battle hymn.
“Through the raging blizzard!”
“Across the snowy plains!”
It was a crude song, yet everyone sang along, as if following an unspoken agreement. My heart pounded, faster than ever before.
“The green tide welcomes us!”
“We’ll cleave through the waves and claim our victory!”
The knights’ auras blazed. The battle hymn echoed in my ears. The Count leveled his spear.
-Thump. Thump. Thump.
Mana coursed through me, violet and black swirling together. Archxius’s mana.
I glared ahead. The orcs, packed tightly together, scrambled before the gate.
The Count muttered, his voice low, as he surveyed the chaotic scene,
“Let’s go.”
At his command, the swords pointed forward.
“Charge!!!”
The knights’ war cry echoed through the air, and I joined them, my own voice joining the roar.
-BOOM!
The Count’s spear tore through the dark green wave, instantly slaughtering the orcs blocking the gate.
Flesh and blood splattered, staining the white snow crimson.
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-Roar!
As if consumed by a fever, I swung my sword, my breath hot against the cold air.
-Thud.
The orc’s flesh parted like butter. I stared at the lifeless creature, then pulled my sword free. The dark green body collapsed.
I looked around. No more orcs remained. This one had been the last. The survivors had long since fled.
A moment of silence hung in the air. The battlefield, littered with the bodies of orcs and humans, was a horrific sight.
“WAAAAAAAAGH!”
A cheer erupted, followed by another, and another. A chorus of victory filled Winter Castle.
I didn’t join them.
‘If I had just… continued a little longer…!’
The clue had been within reach. A clue about this body, this curse. I looked up at the clear, mockingly serene sky.
We had won. We had defended Winter Castle. We had survived. Yet, I wasn’t satisfied. I craved more battle.
I yearned to tear the orcs limb from limb, to drink their blood. My grip on my sword tightened, drawing blood. I stared at the blade, slick with orc blood. I didn’t know how many I had slain.
The edge was slightly chipped. It would still cut through orc flesh, but…
Could it kill the Orc Lord? With a dull blade?
“Deron! Are you…?”
Agnes approached, her breath clouding the air. The moment I saw Jeolyeong in her hand, a strange desire consumed me.
‘Take that sword.’
‘You can’t kill the Orc Lord with your current weapon.’
‘With Jeolyeong, you can tear it apart.’
My head throbbed. I frowned. Take Jeolyeong? That was ridiculous…
‘Why is it ridiculous?’
‘You gave it to her.’
That’s right. I had given the sword to Agnes as a gift. So it wouldn’t be wrong to take it back.
‘But she might not give it back, so just kill her!’
Kill her? Agnes?
My mind felt hazy, my vision blurring.
‘If you can’t do it, I will.’
A malevolent energy surged through me. I couldn’t resist. It had always been within me. I just hadn’t noticed until now.
The scent of blood filled my senses. I could almost see it dripping, and my gaze fixed on Agnes’s neck. My sword moved on its own, as if I had lost control of my body. I felt like I was trapped in a dream.
‘Hehehe…’
The laughter sent shivers down my spine.
A clear, distinct voice echoed in my mind, dispelling the haze. The voice itself was calming.
-Gasp!
I snapped out of it. The first thing I did was stop my sword. But it was already too late. The blade was inches from Agnes’s neck.
-Clang!
Agnes’s eyes widened in surprise. She had managed to draw Jeolyeong and block my attack.
“What… what are you doing?!”
She asked, her voice filled with shock. I dropped my sword. It clattered to the ground. Blood dripped from my hand.
I looked at Agnes. She stared back, Jeolyeong still raised.
She was unharmed.
“Thank goodness…”
Seeing that her face was unscathed, I relaxed. And the world went dark.
“Deron? Deron!”
Agnes desperately shook me, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
My body was drained of all strength. My eyelids grew heavy. I closed my eyes.
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“Deron!”
Agnes rushed to his side and caught him as he fell. His body was burning hot.
Like touching molten lava. Agnes channeled her mana, encasing her hands in ice.
-Sizzle
The ice melted against Deron’s skin, then reformed. But the ice wasn’t important.
A faint, black aura seeped from his body. Agnes recognized it. An unforgettable aura, different from the violet Aura Deron usually wielded.
Demonic energy, the same energy used by the high-ranking demon, Morax. The black aura emanating from Deron was undeniably demonic.
She stared at him, wide-eyed. When had the demonic energy entered his body? Was that why he had attacked her?
Agnes didn’t know. But she remembered the black that had consumed the whites of his eyes as he attacked.
“Was that why he’s been acting so strange…?”
Agnes had noticed Deron’s unusual behavior. He had always been calm and calculating in battle, prioritizing his own safety.
But since arriving at Winter Castle, he had been reckless, ignoring his injuries, charging into battle with abandon.
Yet, his swordsmanship had been so captivating, so mesmerizing, that she hadn’t dared to question him.
“I’m sorry.”
Agnes took Deron’s hand. It was burning hot, a temperature that didn’t belong in this frozen wasteland. She channeled her mana, her cold, ice-infused mana cooling his hand.
She was using her ice to quell the fire raging within him. Just as Deron had held her hand…
…Agnes now held his.
“This is all I can do for now… but someday…”
Someday, I’ll freeze all the demonic energy burning within you. Agnes muttered, then hoisted him onto her back.
She walked across the frozen battlefield, towards the gates of Winter Castle. The soldiers saluted her.
“All hail the Empress of the Battlefield!”
Agnes looked around, confused by their gratitude. Someone tapped her on the shoulder. It was Bell.
“Accept it. The people of Winter Castle never forget a kindness.”
“Did I… do something?”
“That. Wasn’t that you?”
Bell pointed towards the frozen wasteland, littered with green corpses.
“Yes.”
“Look at all those orc corpses on the ice. Those are your kills.”
“I only bound them. The soldiers finished them off…”
“Hey! Don’t insult our soldiers. Who knows how many would have died if you hadn’t ensnared those orcs with your vines?”
Bell bowed her head slightly. Agnes waved her hands, flustered.
“What are you doing?”
“You saved our soldiers’ lives. Dozens of them. As a member of the Cardia family, and as the Count’s daughter, I have to thank you.”
Bell’s bow, the gesture of a future countess, was so sincere that Agnes accepted her gratitude.
The harsh winter had retreated, for now, but the atmosphere in Winter Castle was warmer than ever.
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