The Royal City of Eclahim (1)
The wind howled, biting cold against his face. Dalen scratched his cheek, gazing beyond the ridge.
Around him, a force of five thousand soldiers marched against the chill.
They were survivors rescued from fallen fortresses or reinforcements from strongholds that had withstood the demon onslaught.
“Five thousand in just three weeks from the eastern defense line… more than any other cycle. The Tsar’s defense line held up better than expected this time.”
This was largely due to the successful suppression of the rebellions that had plagued the rear for months.
Moreover, with Dalen and the Holy Knights’ intervention, the Ironblood Army’s manpower was minimized, allowing the frontline forces to focus solely on defense.
As a result, the gathered troops were neither lacking in quantity nor quality.
Among them, the survivors rescued from the fallen fortresses were exceptionally capable.
Surviving the corruption of the hell gates opened by demons and fighting off monsters until rescue arrived was a testament to their skill and determination.
These veterans, driven by a deep-seated hatred for demons, became the backbone of morale.
Having endured literal hellscapes, the fact that more than half of the eastern fortresses had fallen didn’t faze them.
Of course, having the support of a dragon-slaying mercenary, a demon-killing paladin, and the head archmage of a magic tower made such resilience possible.
“All in all, my personal gains weren’t bad either.”
Dalen’s tour of the northern front yielded more than just troops.
The corpses of the fallen were another reward for him.
“The archer blinded by the snow’s glare.”
“The shaman crushed by a giant’s boulder.”
“The mercenary who bested a northern warrior in a contest of strength,” among others, made up six bodies.
Even before the final great war where the evil god directly invaded the continent, there had been constant conflict between the Tsar’s forces and the northerners.
As Dalen often played the role of a mercenary, he naturally found many opportunities to involve himself in the northern front.
After witnessing the evil god’s invasion as the character of the Gray Monk, he often visited to devise strategies to defend against the invasion.
Including the “patrolman buried in an avalanche while dozing” and the “trainer devoured by snow wolves” he found while descending the Teeth of the World mountains, Dalen had collected a total of eight bodies since becoming the Gray Monk.
This was comparable to the number of bodies he had gathered in the southern district of Falcion.
“Not bad for just over a month’s work.”
Though he rarely rested, constantly searching for bodies while the troops took breaks, the fruits of his labor felt all the sweeter for the effort.
Dalen rubbed his tired eyes and opened his status window.
――――――――
Name: Dalen
Level: 34
[Strength: 49] [Dexterity: 42] [Stamina: 38]
[Senses: 38] [Intelligence: 37] [Magic: 41]
Skills: Dehama’s Armored Combat (D), Night Vision (E), Leap (E), Flame Arrow (D), Raphantella’s Crushing Sword (C), Hegaleus’s Rain of Fire (C), Shooting Lightning (D), Curse Ward’s Seal (D), Leredonara’s Secret Sword (B), Sacred Flame’s Ember (C), Crimson Dragon’s Blood (A), Hellgate’s Key (C), Ackerman’s Diagram (C), Filz’s Wind Barrier (C), Fire Spear Technique (D), Living Roots (D), Rapid Germination (D), Rulia’s Spring Water (C)
*Unique Skills (13)
――――――――
Overall, his stats were in the high 30s to low 40s, with strength nearly at 50.
While he could perform feats beyond mere stats using the power of domains, the importance of stats hadn’t diminished.
To wield powerful forces, whether domain powers or otherwise, one needed the talent and insight to match.
Stats were the indicators of that talent, so he continued to gather bodies and experience whenever possible.
“It seems I’ve learned all the useful spells from the Introduction to Plant Magic… Rulia’s Spring Water from the shaman’s body should synergize well with ice magic.”
Each new possibility opened up a dozen more choices.
In battles between superhumans, where they painted and erased each other’s mental landscapes, the more options, the better.
The ability to design a battle was as crucial as raw power in determining victory.
A variety of spells and rituals were excellent tools for diversifying those designs.
“Dalen, the royal city is in sight.”
Lucia’s voice broke through his thoughts. Dalen closed the status window and looked up.
Beyond the cold wind and snowstorm, a vast city loomed faintly below the ridge.
Soon, the snowstorm cleared completely.
A sprawling city encircled by pristine white walls.
In its center, a towering blue and white palace.
Felber, taking in the city’s panorama, chuckled softly and stroked his beard. He spoke.
“The city of the Tsar, ruler of the northern continent, and home to the Eclahim Palace of the Frost Throne. The royal city of Eclahim. I studied the frozen lands here in my youth. It’s been a long time.”
“Hahaha! The sanctuary of ice and gunpowder! It’s been ages for me too! I used to frequent this palace like it was my home… oof!”
“Friend obsessed with gunpowder, there are many ears listening.”
“Ouch, my skull!”
Bjorn, struck by a stone that appeared out of thin air, clutched his swollen head and groaned.
Felber clicked his tongue, while Akasha applied an ice pack to the dwarf’s head.
Lucia, shaking her head at the chaotic sled, suddenly spoke.
“Still, it’s strange. With so many fortresses on the northern front fallen, the royal city hasn’t even been attacked, let alone captured…”
She was right. The royal city of Eclahim was the only fortress and city still fully functional.
The triple-layered walls stood firm without a single crack, and the soldiers atop them maintained a vigilant watch.
Meanwhile, a long line of merchants, farmers, mercenaries, carts, and wagons waited for their turn at inspection in front of the southern gate.
Though tension from the war loomed, there were no visible signs of direct impact.
Having witnessed countless horrors over the past weeks, the everyday scene felt all the more surreal.
Such a scene doesn’t unfold by chance.
If Dalen’s suspicions were correct, Charina was likely already seated on the Frost Throne, single-handedly holding back the demon army.
And Dalen and his companions would soon see this with their own eyes.
“Welcome to the royal city of the Tsar, Dalen. Charina has been expecting you.”
The master of the Frost Throne had personally invited them.
The five thousand troops entered the city without incident.
The royal guards weren’t incompetent; it was simply a prearranged plan.
While managing the eastern strongholds, Dalen had sent several envoys to the royal city, informing them that he was leading reinforcements.
The royal city had responded with a welcoming message, urging him to bring the reinforcements as soon as possible.
Thanks to this, there was no sudden emergence of the Snow Wolf cavalry from the castle due to the unexpected appearance of a large force.
They merely had to temporarily hold back the line of people at the gate and conduct a brief inspection before allowing the troops in.
While the soldiers were being inspected, Dalen and his companions were invited to the Eclahim Palace.
Specifically, to the inner hall where the Frost Throne resided, a place only a select few nobles could enter.
Creak. Creak.
The long corridor, frozen solid from floor to ceiling.
At the end of the corridor, deep within the Eclahim Palace, stood a door thicker than most castle gates, covered in countless magical seals.
Creak, creak—
“Hmph…”
As the door opened, a wave of cold air rushed out.
Tommy, following his master, winced and hunched over in pain.
Even as a boy who had inherited his master’s spells and was far from ordinary, the chill emanating from inside was overwhelming.
“If you can’t endure it, turn back. We don’t want to be cleaning up bodies in Charina’s hall.”
The royal guard at the door spoke coldly. Dalen shrugged and stepped in front of the boy.
Fwoosh…
Wings of black flame unfurled from his back, countering the biting cold.
More than just a windbreak, they were a source of heat that completely dispelled the chill within several meters.
”…”
The royal guards were left speechless. Dalen and his companions passed them and entered the hall.
”…Oh.”
“My God…”
The hall was vast.
Literally, in every sense of the word.
The frozen ground stretched beyond the horizon, and thin snow fell endlessly from the sky, painting the world white.
Had they somehow expanded the space through distortion?
Perhaps it was a place that embodied the very essence of the Tsar’s dynasty, much like the residence of the apothecary Philopon in the labyrinthine city.
Dalen tilted his head slightly, a hint of skepticism in his gaze. Through the gently falling snow, he could see a high platform and a throne.
And atop it, a statue of a woman, seemingly sculpted from ice.
The statue’s lips moved.
“Welcome.”
“The last descendant of the wandering Caladracum dynasty, the one-eyed master craftsman who stole the technology of the Empire and the Tsar’s nation. Bjorn Caladracum.”
“The demon slayer favored by Edgar Reinhardt, the sharpest white sword of the war god. Lucia Castachald.”
“The earth mage who tampered with the timeline of the dragon god’s left-arm armor, the master of the Elgaia Tower and his apprentice. Felber Valentino and Tommy Valentino.”
“The dragon once hidden as the harbinger of the end, now chosen to stand against it with his father. Akasha Riulak.”
“And…”
Crack.
The sound of ice breaking echoed.
A crack began at the statue’s lips and quickly spread across its face.
With a clear, ringing sound, thin shards of ice shattered.
The woman frozen like a statue on the throne, Charina Vizalina Yoscov, slowly moved her face free from the ice.
She lifted her eyelids.
“Demon slayer. Dragon slayer. The one who killed two witches. The tamer of the dark star tree cast over the inverted heavens. The one who harbors the blood of a dragon abandoned by its lord. Unknown to both holy and noble houses, yet the one who shakes all that is decreed under the gaze of the gods. Dalen.”
”…”
“Did the well of the inverted heavens truly prophesy your coming? I have staked my fate on it being true. That is why I have waited until now, holding back half of the hundred and eight demons of Suum alone.”
Her eyes, a pale blue, fixed on Dalen. They were eyes that seemed to draw him in, filled with an almost magnetic power.
A gaze that could project not just a fragment, but the entirety of a domain.
A being capable of twisting mysteries to her own will.
As he met the gaze of a mage who had ascended to the sixth rank, Dalen quietly raised a hand to scratch his chin.
He thought to himself, Damn, here we go with the mage’s cryptic talk again.