Northern Front (1)
Whooosh…!
A biting wind sliced through the window, stinging Craig Bidroff’s face. It was the icy gust from the frozen northern plains, sweeping in from the distant Frost Plateau.
Craig, an enforcer for the Royal Special Forces, grimaced, his beard stiff with cold. “At this rate, we’ll freeze to death before the demons get us.”
His lieutenant chuckled. “Well, sir, you did spend half your life in the warm south. By the way, I heard there are many beauties among the southern refugees. Did you—”
“Shut up, you idiot!” Craig snapped, cutting him off with a swift kick. “We’re on the brink of a demon invasion, and that’s what you’re thinking about?”
The lieutenant staggered away, clutching his backside. He claimed he was off to relieve himself, but Craig knew he’d probably go chat with the soldiers on watch.
“Useless fool,” Craig muttered, crossing his legs on the desk. “If he weren’t so good at his job, I’d have gotten rid of him ages ago.”
His private quarters atop the fortress wall were cramped, but better than nothing. It was a privilege he wouldn’t have had if he weren’t the acting garrison commander and a royal enforcer.
Not that it made the northern cold any more bearable. The lieutenant was right; Craig was used to the warmth of the southeastern regions, where he’d spent years on intelligence missions. When he was offered the post of garrison commander here as a reward for quelling a rebellion, he secretly wanted to refuse. But with the demon army at their doorstep, refusing an assignment was tantamount to insubordination.
“Damn it. The inns in the south had decent food,” Craig grumbled. “I can’t even remember the last time I had a proper venison stew.”
It had been over two months since the rebels in the southeastern regions had risen up, claiming to be the rightful rulers. They’d ended up sacrificing even their own people to the demons, leading to their downfall. The rebellion had been crushed, but not before several villages were set ablaze and thousands of residents were corrupted by demonic power.
If it weren’t for timely support from the capital and the swift deployment of the Paladin Order, the south would have descended into chaos. It was a crisis that could have torn the kingdom apart from within, and Craig had been right in the thick of it.
He’d earned his position as an enforcer and the relatively safe post on the eastern front, but something was missing. Each day felt hollow, and it wasn’t just the cold or the food. He’d been telling himself that for weeks, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t true.
It was the lack of… romance. The thrill of infiltrating enemy lines, the rush of battle—those were the reasons he’d joined the Special Forces in his youth. Now, without that excitement, he felt adrift.
In the southeast, there had been a sense of purpose. It was the heart of the rebellion, after all. But here? The eastern edge of the northern front was a strategic backwater. Even if he were a demon, he wouldn’t bother attacking this place.
He understood why his superiors had sent him here. He’d been injured serving the crown, and they wanted to keep him safe while deploying their forces to the front lines. But maybe it was time to request a transfer to the central front, where tensions had been high for weeks. His injuries had healed, and he was ready for action again.
Crash!
“Commander! Commander!”
The commotion outside snapped him out of his thoughts. Craig turned, veins bulging on his forehead, as the door burst open and his lieutenant rushed in, panic etched on his face.
Craig immediately sensed the urgency. He swung his legs off the desk and asked, “What’s going on?”
“Sir, urgent report from the scouts! A horde of monsters is advancing! Look outside!”
Damn it. His heart pounded, betraying his excitement even as he cursed under his breath. He dashed to the window.
With a surge of magic, his vision sharpened, revealing the distant horizon in stark detail. Amidst the white expanse and blue sky, dark shapes emerged.
Hundreds of barbarian warriors, tainted by demonic power, and an equal number of monsters. But that wasn’t all.
Beyond them, massive figures loomed—a building-sized demon clad in thick armor, a giant with a spear like a temple pillar, and a colossal five-headed lizard spewing flames.
They were demons of the highest order, directly under the command of the demon lord Suum. Their overwhelming presence was palpable even from afar.
“Damn it. I wanted adventure, not a death sentence,” Craig muttered, cursing his earlier thoughts. But he quickly composed himself and issued orders.
“Lieutenant, sound the alarm. Send word to the lord.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Report that two demons and a thousand monsters and corrupted barbarians are attacking. And…”
A sudden bolt of lightning interrupted him, striking the horizon and severing the horse-headed giant’s mount.
Craig’s gaze shifted instinctively.
“What the…?”
From the eastern edge of the horizon, figures approached, riding the nearly untamable snow wolves. Six of them, led by a giant wielding a sword that gleamed in the sunlight—a sword that summoned lightning.
Craig couldn’t help but laugh. His lieutenant looked at him, puzzled.
“Commander?”
“Ah, never mind. Just report that reinforcements have arrived. I’ll handle the rest.”
Craig laced up his boots and dashed out, ignoring his lieutenant’s confused shouts. The lieutenant was more than capable of leading the troops; it was time for him to meet the approaching reinforcements.
Boom!
A blue bolt of lightning struck down.
The demon Orobas, already dismounted by a previous strike, raised a shield behind him. The massive, flaming shield was a hellish artifact, incinerating most spells before they could touch it.
The blue lightning clashed with the fiery red, and in an instant, the demon’s arm was charred black.
“Haha! A demon losing an arm to a single bolt!” Bjorn shouted, hurling grenades at the advancing horde.
Boom! Crack!
The grenades exploded mid-air, raining shrapnel down on the monsters. Despite the chaos, Bjorn’s aim was precise, targeting only the enemy.
Riding a snow wolf and displaying such skill was proof that Bjorn was no ordinary craftsman. His abilities had grown immensely, just like the rest of the group, thanks to their countless battles alongside Dalen.
Bjorn’s expertise in crafting and using explosives was unmatched, and his ability to deploy them with pinpoint accuracy was a testament to his skill. Though he preferred to talk about his creations rather than his prowess, it was clear he was a formidable force in his own right.
As he swung his handcrafted explosive whip like a weapon, it seemed only a matter of time before he would once again be hurling bombs into the jaws of demons, just like in his prime.
“O God of War—!”
The one-eyed master craftsman had created a gap in the demon horde with overwhelming firepower.
Seizing the opportunity, a wolf bathed in golden light charged through the breach.
Atop the wolf, Lucia’s sacred tattoos glowed brilliantly, and as her sword sliced through the air, a crescent of white flame arced majestically.
“White Flame Crescent Moon”
Whoosh—!
In the blink of an eye, the white crescent flame flew over a hundred meters, severing two of the lizard demon’s heads with its divine power.
Swoosh!
Simultaneously, Lucia leaped from the wolf’s back, white wings unfurling behind her.
These were the ‘Wings of the Heavenly Angel,’ a high-level miracle bestowed upon her during the civil war against the high orcs, while she fought alongside the sanctuary’s defenders.
Screeeech—!!
As Lucia battled the three-headed lizard demon in the sky, Dalen dismounted from the snow wolf and plunged into the demon army.
The snow wolf, tamed just enough to serve as a reliable means of transport, wasn’t quite suited for the intense combat against the demon horde.
Besides, Dalen himself wasn’t particularly fond of mounted combat. For short-range mobility, his own skills were more than sufficient.
Boom!
The snow-covered ground erupted with a thunderous roar as Dalen launched himself into the air.
Boom—!
He leaped through the air, closing hundreds of meters in an instant.
At the end of his path, a horse-headed demon barely managed to rise and shouted.
[Warrior with the holy sword…! So you’re the one who defeated the Grand Duke of the Corpse Swamp!]
There was no response. The demon didn’t seem to expect one, as it thrust its spear without hesitation.
Whoosh—!
A swift strike, unbelievably fast for a creature five meters tall. The flaming spearhead closed in rapidly.
[Try to withstand this! If I kill you, the gods will grant me the title of Grand Duke…]
The demon’s words were cut short.
“Return to the Abyss”
Dalen vanished from sight, reappearing behind the demon, landing lightly on its shoulder.
[How…!]
Once again, Dalen offered no reply. He flicked his sword clean and leaped off the demon’s shoulder.
As his feet touched the ground, the severed horse head fell to the earth.
“Crimson Flame Pillar”
The moment the head hit the ground with a thud, a pillar of fire erupted behind him, engulfing the headless demon’s body.
“Tsk. Even slaying demons doesn’t yield much experience anymore.”
Rumble… Crack! Crunch!
As the snow-covered earth opened wide, swallowing the remaining demons with its stone tongue, Dalen muttered to himself.
Thanks to the demon he just defeated, he barely managed to level up.
The problem was that after weeks of painstakingly gathering experience since leaving the high orcs’ sanctuary, this was all he had to show for it.
Even if he had single-handedly wiped out the entire horde, he wouldn’t have filled half the experience bar.
While the stats gained from recovering corpses were decent, it was hard not to be frustrated by the slow leveling.
’…I should look on the bright side. It means my companions have grown stronger.’
[You lowly demon scum! Don’t even think about touching a hair on my mother’s head!]
As Dalen continued his thoughts, the lizard demon, now headless thanks to Lucia, was swept away by the breath of a blue-scaled dragon that had grown to the size of a warhorse.
The rest of the horde was quickly dealt with by Bjorn’s barrage of bombs and Valentino the priest’s wide-ranging earth magic.
Seeing that his companions didn’t need any help, Dalen opened his status window.
Just as he was about to allocate his stats, a white cloud rising in the distance caught his eye.
’…Hmm?’
A convoy of about ten battle sleds, pulled by the large hunting dogs of the north, was approaching in formation.
Could it be a reconnaissance team from the Tsar’s fortress?
Scratching his chin nonchalantly, he noticed the face of the man in command on the lead sled seemed oddly familiar.
It didn’t take long to remember where he’d seen him before.
The man was a special operations agent he’d met in a village in the southeastern part of the Tsar’s territory, just before they ascended the mountain range.
‘But his appearance… seems to have changed quite a bit.’
A sunken belly and well-defined arm muscles. A sharper jawline from weight loss.
If that were all, it wouldn’t have been noteworthy, but the unsettling gleam of madness in his eyes was troubling.
Craig Bidroff, was it? Dalen recalled the man’s name as he pondered.
What on earth could have happened in just two months to change him so drastically?