POV Kilian Dedoldia
The rainy season was approaching. My nose itched, and the wind carried the scent of wet earth mixed with the fragrance of trees. Whenever that smell came, it meant the storm was near. It was familiar, but today, it felt different—heavier, almost suffocating.
While practicing fire magic, a flame dancing in my hand, I glanced at Rygar. He was sitting near the edge of the clearing, as sharp as ever, carefully adjusting his sword. I'd seen him do this before, but today, it felt like he was elsewhere. His eyes gleamed with determination, but there was something more—concern, perhaps?
Rygar was never like us. From the day I saw him leaping through the trees at just two years old, he already seemed different. Not just because he was astonishingly strong and talented. He was... more. Not in size, but in what he represented. He always knew what to do, always had a plan, even when everyone else was confused. When he stood, everyone stopped to watch.
I remember the day he started training us. I had just turned four, barely knowing anything about life.
That towering figure became my teacher. I would have called him "master," but he firmly forbade it. From that moment, I followed him wherever he went—except during his own training. When he wasn't around, we trained and played together, our group roaming the village under Rygar's banner. No other group of kids dared to challenge us, and we eventually absorbed any rivals into our own circle.
Even with this new, larger group, Rygar always remained impartial and fair, resolving every problem and complaint with ease.
My respect and admiration for him grew each day. Then came the day when Rygar was officially recognized as a warrior of the tribe—not just for his power but also for his intellect and maturity. I heard he had defeated his father, one of the strongest warriors in the village.
That day, we celebrated as if the achievement was our own. Despite his new responsibilities, he never abandoned us—not that anyone expected him to. He could do it all, and he never made mistakes.
I think it was on that day that I realized my goal. I was learning magic, and my parents and friends already found that impressive enough. But what Rygar was teaching me was a unique skill, one that I might never fully master.
"You can do it, Kilian. Just guide your mana naturally," Rygar said, pointing at my chest and then my hand. "Let it flow like a river. Don't try to control it all at once."
And it worked. For the first time, I created a ball of water—small and fragile—without using any incantation. He smiled, and in that moment, I knew I wanted to follow him. I felt that this was my path, my destiny. As long as I followed him, everything would be fine.
Since then, Rygar has become like a demigod in my eyes. Lisena, Taes, and I, along with the other division leaders, always looked to him for direction. And he always gave it. Even when things seemed grim, he found a way forward.
Today, as I watch him, I realize he has changed. There's something heavier about him—more serious. The responsibility he carries is immense. Yet, even so, he doesn't falter.
As I observed him, Lisena approached.
"Kilian, what are you looking at?" she asked, her voice curious, a faint smile on her face.
"Rygar," I replied, my voice quieter than I expected.
"Are you worried about him?"
I thought for a moment before answering.
"No. I just... I want to help him in any way I can."
Lisena fell silent, but I could tell she felt the same way. We weren't just his students. Rygar was our leader.
That day, I made a silent vow. No matter what happened, I would stand by him. Because deep down, I knew he was more than just a boy. He was Rygar. And Rygar would make a difference.
MC's POV
The room was quiet, save for the sound of blades being sharpened and the occasional crackle of the firewood in the hearth. Fendrel stood against the log wall of the cabin, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on me. Erina sat beside him.
Darian stood on the other side, spinning a knife between his fingers, his relaxed demeanor contrasting with the tension in the air. The two were inseparable, childhood friends. Whenever they spoke of each other, there was a camaraderie I envied. They seemed so synchronized, so... human.
Beyond them, the rest of the adventurers were scattered around the tent.
Fendrel spoke first, breaking the silence. "So, Rygar, you're saying Gyes is leading a direct assault on the enemy bases before the rainy season hits?"
"Yes," I replied firmly. "We'll need your help again to defend the tribe, alongside the warriors stationed here, of course." Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Zenn's mouth twitch slightly as he heard me.
Fendrel narrowed his eyes, studying me. He was quite the actor—even I almost believed his facade. It was a bold, risky plan, but it had a high chance of success if executed well.
Darian chuckled, his tone light but tinged with admiration. "You've got guts, no doubt about it. But, Fendrel, do you think they'll fall for it? These slavers aren't amateurs."
"It's a risk," I admitted, keeping my voice steady. "But a calculated one. They might still hesitate to attack because of the presence of a Sword Saint."
Fendrel walked to the table in the center of the room, placing his hands on it and leaning forward. He seemed to weigh every detail, glancing at his companions to gauge their thoughts. Finally, he sighed and nodded.
"Alright. We'll do it. We'll do our best to protect the tribe in their absence."
I nodded, swallowing the tension rising in my chest.
---
I followed him silently, keeping myself hidden among the trees. Zenn was careful, but not careful enough to lose me. He walked quickly, his eyes scanning the ground ahead as if afraid of being followed.
And rightly so, I thought.
My breathing was steady, my footsteps light. It was dark, but my eyes adjusted easily to the dim light—a gift of my race. Still, I knew that if Zenn turned at the wrong moment, he might see me.
He paused for a moment, tilting his head slightly. I crouched low, pressing my body to the ground, and held my breath. He glanced around, suspicious, but soon continued on his way.
He left what appeared to be a letter inside a hollow log before moving on.
When I was sure he was far enough away, I headed back to the village.
---
When I arrived, I gathered Kilian, Lisena, and Taes, along with Erat and Lione—the other two "division commanders." They were waiting, their faces a mix of excitement and fear.
"Listen," I began, my voice firm. "You cannot reveal yourselves, no matter what happens. Stay hidden until I give the signal. And if something goes wrong..."
"We run to the forest," Kilian finished, his eyes shining with determination.
I nodded. "Exactly. Protect the other children. And don't look back. No matter what you hear, don't stop."
They nodded in unison, and I felt an immense weight settle on me.
Before leaving, I went to my mother. She was organizing items in the cabin, likely trying to keep herself occupied.
"Mom," I called, and she turned to me, her face weary. "Don't worry about me. Just... stay safe."
She hesitated, her eyes filling with concern. But finally, she nodded and pulled me into a hug. Her warmth gave me strength I hadn't realized I needed.
---
Hontar, Gyes, Garu, and several other warriors stood in a tense circle, their expressions grim. Gustav repeated the plan, detailing every movement with precision.
"Zenn has delivered the false information. This should give us the advantage we need. When the battle begins, Rygar will launch a large-scale ice attack to destabilize them. I need all of you ready to strike as soon as their formation breaks."
"What about the enemy's strongest warriors? Any new information?" Hontar asked, his concern evident.
Gustav took a deep breath. "They're the biggest threat. We know Fendrel is here, but... the slavers don't seem to fear him. That means they have something—or someone—they believe can counter him."
Gyes clenched his fists. "If they have a Saint-level warrior…"
"We can handle it," Gustav interrupted. "Our losses might be greater, but no single man can stand against an army of warriors alone."
I watched the discussion, conflicted. What if I lost control? It had happened before, and the fear of it haunted me. But I couldn't fail—not now.
---
Days passed. The warriors had "departed" on an expedition to eliminate the slavers. To make the ruse convincing, none of the families had been informed. The farewells were somber and heart-wrenching.
I was now secretly standing guard at the edge of the tribe's territory, keeping my magic eye active and scanning for any movement in the distance. Suddenly, I spotted dozens of mana signatures approaching. I quickly sent a signal to alert everyone to prepare.
Moments later, I sensed a presence. Fendrel emerged from the main trail, followed by Darian and several other warriors from the tribe. They were armed and ready for battle, but something felt off about Darian. He seemed… uneasy.
"The rest of our group will launch an ambush on their rear," Darian said, his voice laced with confidence and a faint smirk.
Fendrel nodded, his gaze sharp as it locked onto mine through the underbrush.
I returned the gesture, signaling that we were ready. The moment the enemy entered the clearing, we would begin our attack.
"We're under attack! Gather all warriors now!" Fendrel shouted, his voice commanding. The guards sprang into action, preparing for the assault.
Despite everything going according to plan, my instincts screamed that something was wrong.
The invaders advanced through the forest, torches and swords in hand, setting fires wherever they passed. They were well-organized, their threatening silhouettes cutting through the forming mist. Dozens of them marched, but my attention was drawn to the central group: five swordsmen who walked with absolute confidence.
They were different. Their posture, their aura—it all screamed lethality. Dressed in dark clothing accented with silver, each carried a longsword. They moved like shadows, their grace unnerving.
Now wasn't the time to dwell on their strength.
I gathered all the mana I could, feeling it surge and vibrate through my veins. The ground beneath me began to freeze, a thin layer of ice spreading outward as the air around me grew frigid. Taking a deep breath, I bent my knees and leaped into the air with all my might.
Time seemed to slow as I soared upward. Below, the slavers turned their heads, confused, watching the shadow streak across the sky.
"What is that?!" someone shouted in alarm.
At the apex of my jump, I raised my hand above my head, channeling all the mana I could muster into a single spell. A brilliant blue orb formed, pulsating with freezing energy and casting an eerie light across the shadowed forest.
"Freezing Nova!" I roared, my voice reverberating with power.
It wasn't the actual spell—I hadn't learned it yet—but it seemed close enough to what it would be.
The orb detonated as it hit the ground, unleashing a blinding explosion of ice. A wave of frost radiated outward, shards of ice raining down like spears, impaling the ground and catching unprepared enemies. The temperature plummeted instantly, and a swirling blizzard enveloped the battlefield, leaving a pristine, cutting whiteness in its wake.
When I landed, the impact cracked the frozen ground beneath me, sending out another shockwave of frost. Trees creaked and shattered, transformed into crystalline sculptures of ice. Many slavers screamed, trying to flee, but the cold claimed them before they could escape.
A significant portion of the enemy was caught in the storm, frozen in place with their terrified expressions preserved in ice.
As expected, the five swordsmen dodged the attack effortlessly, retreating before it struck. One of them stepped forward—the leader, by his demeanor. He unsheathed his blade, a crooked smile playing on his face, though his eyes were calculating.
I glared at them, unflinching, while the guards began their counterattack against the invading forces. The sounds of clashing steel and roaring voices filled the clearing. Fendrel and Darian approached me.
"What do we know about them?" I asked without taking my eyes off the five figures.
"They're known as the Black Frost Five," Fendrel said grimly. "Infamous mercenaries in the underworld. They've never failed a job, but they're only Advanced-level swordsmen."
I swallowed hard. Black Frost. The name felt like a cruel irony, given my reliance on ice magic.
The apparent leader stepped forward. He had long brown hair and a jagged scar running diagonally across his face, making him appear almost grotesque. His voice was clear and sharp as he addressed Fendrel:
"Fendrel. It's been a while."
Fendrel narrowed his eyes but remained calm. "Resorting to working with slavers now? I'm not impressed."
The swordsman chuckled. "We do what's necessary. And you? Come to die alongside these furballs?"
I was prepared for their provocations. It was a common tactic in the North God style. But my instincts screamed louder than ever. Something was wrong, horribly wrong. I scanned the battlefield, using every sense at my disposal. The fights around me were chaotic but didn't justify the danger I felt. It wasn't these five; their strength alone wouldn't provoke such a reaction.
Deciding not to take chances, I signaled the hidden warriors to attack prematurely. Just as I felt a fleeting sense of safety, it happened.
The enemy leader charged at Fendrel, wielding what I recognized as a Longsword of Silence. The choice seemed absurd, given his opponent. Fendrel appeared wary, his eyes darting to the other four swordsmen. He activated his ultimate technique, the Longsword of Light.
"Seeking a swift death? I'll oblige," he said coldly.
But before I could react, Darian moved.
He was behind Fendrel in an instant, his blade slicing through the air toward his childhood friend's back.
"Fendrel, behind you!" I shouted, acting on instinct.
My warning came just in time. Fendrel deflected the strike and twisted his body, narrowly avoiding being cleaved in half. However, Darian's blade continued, severing Fendrel's dominant arm and slicing off his right ear. Blood sprayed across the snow as Fendrel stumbled back, clutching the bleeding stump where his arm had been.
"Darian…" Fendrel gasped, disbelief etched across his face.
Darian showed no remorse. His expression was cold, his eyes devoid of emotion.
"I'm sorry, old friend. But the world is cruel."
Rage erupted within me, wild and unrelenting. Before I knew it, I was hurtling toward Darian, moving faster than I ever had.
"You'll pay for this!" I roared, my voice raw with fury.
The mercenary leader smirked as he watched the chaos unfold.
"Looks like the real show has begun."