Rumble, rumble, rumble —.
The earth began to tremble faintly. The cheering workers fell silent.
Elian staggered up to the top of the wall. Calix followed naturally, steadying his back as he climbed. Beyond the wall — a forest of solid black. Trees were toppling lifelessly within it.
“GROAAAAR!”
A roar like thunder tore open the night sky. Massive shadows broke free from the treeline and revealed themselves across the snowfield. Ogres the size of houses, regenerating Trolls, and a swarm of hundreds of monsters. The main force of the Monster Wave had arrived.
“Impeccable timing.”
Calix gave a quiet smirk and drew his sword. His crimson eyes blazed with the thirst for battle.
“Th— they’re really here, Your Grace.”
Elian gripped the parapet and pulled himself upright. His legs were shaking — but not his gaze. This wall he had built. It was time to prove just how solid this work was — the one forged from every point he’d poured in, every drop of sweat, and the Grand Duke’s own Mana.
“Now it gets real.”
Red moonlight poured down over the two men.
“They’re coming! They’re coming!”
A soldier screamed from the watchtower above. The vibration of the trembling earth traveled up through the soles of their feet. Enormous shadows bursting from the darkness. Smashing through the forest as they emerged — the vanguard of the Monster Wave: an Ogre unit.
“UOOOOOOO!”
Hulking, muscle-bound monsters the size of houses charged at full speed toward the wall. Each one wielded a club fashioned from an entire tree ripped out by the roots.
“Hold them! Loose the arrows! Don’t let them get close!”
The captain’s shout was followed by a rain of arrows — but against the Ogres’ thick hides, they were no more than toothpicks. The creatures didn’t slow down at all, barreling straight at the wall and slamming their bodies into it.
“They’re going to break through!”
“Get back!”
The soldiers stumbled back in terror. The flimsy stone walls of the North had always crumbled under a single Ogre charge. But Elian gripped the parapet and grinned with absolute confidence.
“Like hell it’ll break.”
BOOM —!
With a sound like a thunderclap, the entire wall shuddered. Dust bloomed into the air and the shockwave rattled the atmosphere. The soldiers squeezed their eyes shut — bracing for the ground to cave in beneath them. But —
“…Huh?”
Nothing happened. The ground was solid. The wall stood firm. What had crumbled wasn’t the wall — it was the skull of the Ogre that had rammed its head into it. The wall’s unshaken stillness, set against the sickening crack of an Ogre’s head splitting open, sent a thrill of savage satisfaction through the air. This was the taste of civilization — the product of capital and engineering.
“GRAAUGH….”
The Ogres staggered, spraying blood. Not a single mark had been left on the surface they’d charged into. The smooth, white face of the wall stood there arrogantly, as if to say it would not permit so much as a scratch.
“After all the rebar we drove into this thing — did you really think a headbutt was going to punch through it?”
Elian scoffed. Did they have any idea what the per-square cost of this thing was? This wasn’t just a chunk of stone. This was Mana-reinforced concrete — rapid-cured with the Grand Duke’s own Mana! No physical impact short of a siege weapon could ever breach it.
“YEAAAAH!”
“It didn’t fall! The wall is still standing!”
The soldiers erupted in cheers. Terror gave way to relief, and relief to the conviction that they would win.
“Attack! Drop the stones!”
The monsters milling about in confusion below the wall made excellent targets. Under the barrage of arrows and stones raining down from above, the Ogres screamed and fell one after another.
“As expected — in a defensive siege, it all comes down to your gear.”
Elian watched the battle unfold with deep satisfaction. Just then —
“This is boring.”
Calix murmured quietly from beside him.
“Pardon? Your Grace?”
“The shield is solid enough. Time for the spear to step forward.”
With only those words, Calix stepped up onto the wall’s parapet and leaped over.
“Y— Your Grace! That’s a ten-meter drop —!”
Before Elian could stop him, Calix threw himself off the wall. His black coat billowed against the night sky. Thud. The moment Calix’s feet hit the ground with a light landing — FWOOOOSH —! The earth within a fifty-meter radius of him transformed instantly into a white sheet of ice.
“Grrrr?”
The Ogres that had been pounding the wall turned around in confusion. Standing there was the master of winter.
“Die.”
Calix swept his sword horizontally. A blue arc of sword energy sliced outward in a crescent.
Slice. A bone-deep cutting sound. The thighs of five Ogres standing in the front line were severed simultaneously. They didn’t even seem to feel the pain — not a single scream left their mouths. The cut surfaces froze over in an instant, and not a single drop of blood was shed.
Flesh parted in the wake of the blade’s path, yet Calix’s movements held not a single wasted motion. For a scene of pure slaughter, it was impossibly quiet and elegant. Each time Calix extended his hand, the moisture in the air crystallized into dozens of ice lances — and every one of them drove straight through the hearts of the monsters below.
“A monster….”
Elian stood on the wall above, staring with his mouth hanging open. He was terrifying. That man was genuinely terrifying. And yet at the same time, a shiver of awe swelled in his chest.
“Thank god that monster is on our side.”
Elian murmured without thinking. Every point he’d spent felt worth it. For that level of power, he should be paid not one billion but ten billion a year.
And so the battle looked to be wrapping up in a decisive human victory. Until those things appeared.
“SKREEEEEE!”
With a grotesque shriek, black shadows began crawling up the surface of the wall. Variant types — limbs longer than a regular Troll’s, with sharp hooks at the ends of their hands and feet. Spider Trolls.
“Wh— what?! Why are they climbing up?!”
“Stop them! Don’t let them get over!”
The soldiers stabbed at them frantically with their spears, but the creatures’ speed exceeded anything they’d imagined. They drove their hooks into the concrete wall and scuttled upward like spiders. The way they moved was unsettlingly grotesque.
With their joints wrenched backward, they clung flat against the surface as they climbed — the spitting image of giant insects. Every time they drove their spike-like claws in, the smooth concrete surface screeched like fingernails on a chalkboard and sent a teeth-gritting noise piercing into the ears.
Thwack! Clack!
In an instant, one of the Spider Trolls vaulted over the parapet and landed right in front of Elian’s face.
“GRAAAH!”
With a swipe of its foreleg, a soldier was wounded and crumpled. Elian’s eyes went wide. With the guard down, the creature’s gaze locked onto him. A prey rich in Mana. It licked its maw and launched itself at Elian.
“Damn it!”
Elian yanked a magic scroll from inside his coat and tore it open.
“Fireball!”
A ball of flame shot forward and detonated against its face. Bang! But the creature only shook its head once — and then, face burning, it grinned its ghastly grin and raised its claws, aiming for Elian’s throat.
“Grrrrrrrr.”
Too late.
There was no dodging this. Elian’s mind went white. The blue-grey claws flashed down at him like lightning — and in that very instant —
CRACK —!
With a dull, meaty sound, the Spider Troll’s head exploded. An enormous ice lance had come flying from somewhere and punched clean through it.
“…Huh?”
Elian looked up, trembling. Below the wall, Calix stood there. He was still in the stance of having just thrown the lance, radiating a murderous intent so intense it made the air shudder, staring up.
“How dare they.”
Calix’s lips twisted. For the first time, he felt it — that sensation of his heart plummeting. The moment Elian had been placed beneath those claws, he heard his own reason snap.
BOOM!
Calix stamped his foot and a massive pillar of ice erupted from the ground. He stepped on it and vaulted to the top of the ten-meter wall in a single leap. The moment he landed, he planted himself in front of Elian. The remaining Spider Trolls still crawling up the wall faltered when they laid eyes on Calix.
“I believe I told you not to die without my permission.”
Calix’s voice was low and cold as something dredged up from the depths of hell. He didn’t swing his sword. He simply raised his hand and clenched it around the empty air.
CRACK!
The bodies of five Spider Trolls clinging to the wall’s parapet were simultaneously encased in ice crystals. Then Calix closed his fist — and they shattered apart, ice and bodies alike, exploding into fragments.
“….”
The situation had been resolved in an instant. Only silence drifted across the top of the wall. Dawn was breaking.
The monsters within the forest, broken by the death of their leaders and seized with the terror of the slaughter, began to scatter and flee in every direction.
Victory. A complete and overwhelming victory for a domain everyone had written off — a victory no one had expected.
“Hah… hah….”
The tension released all at once, and Elian’s legs gave out beneath him. He dropped to the ground. He’d thought he was going to die. He’d truly believed that his second life was about to end.
“Are you all right?”
Calix turned around and looked down at Elian. His face and clothes were splattered with the blood of monsters, an absolute mess. But with the morning light at his back, he looked — more sacred than anything Elian had ever seen. More… striking.
“Y… Your Grace.”
Elian reached out a trembling hand to wipe away the dark blood smeared on Calix’s cheek. But before his hand could make contact, Calix caught him by the wrist.
“Ah.”
Calix didn’t push his hand away. Instead, he brought it toward his own lips. Those cold lips pressed firmly against the center of Elian’s palm — against the lifeline — and then lifted away.
Kiss.
“Well done.”
Calix held Elian’s gaze as he spoke.
“My Lord.”
Not a furnace. Not baggage. These words — acknowledging him as a Lord under the rule of Calix Drac, Grand Duke of the North.
He called me… his Lord.
For some reason, it made him think of a drama he’d watched in his past life. The words of a superior who had finally acknowledged a member of their team. He’d shed a few tears at that line back then. This was just as moving. Elian’s face flushed hot all at once.
“…You’ve certainly earned your keep, Your Grace.”
Elian tossed out a joke to mask his embarrassment and turned away. Strangely, the tips of his ears were burning red. But watching Elian’s retreating back, Calix’s brow furrowed ever so slightly.
…Wait.
Calix ran his thumb across his own lips. The soft, warm sensation of what had just touched them was still vivid. He had clearly meant to press his lips to the back of the hand — the most noble gesture of gratitude a lord could bestow upon a vassal, in proper knightly etiquette.
Why did I kiss the inside of the palm instead of the back of the hand?
A palm kiss. In imperial etiquette, that carried the meaning of courtship and entreaty.
Am I out of my mind?
Calix’s pupils trembled as if an earthquake had struck them. He hurriedly clenched his fist and pressed it against his lips. Fortunately, Elian seemed entirely unaware of what his lord had just done — too caught up in being moved to tears, quietly sniffling to himself.
The tips of Calix’s ears burned. The breath of the Grand Duke — who had not wavered once throughout the entire battle — was growing, strangely, uneven.
