Episode 7: Northern Front (6)
In preparation for the subjugation, the empire began gathering every capable fighter from across its territories.
This wasn’t the first time a subjugation campaign had been launched against Erebeon.
The central empire had launched two previous campaigns to defeat the first demonic beast, both ending in catastrophic failure.
One Aura user went missing, three died, and eighty percent of the northern garrison was annihilated.
To avoid repeating that disaster, the empire was pouring every resource into this operation.
The empire’s second Aura user, the Sword Saint Franz Eldin.
The knight division of the Belfurn ducal family, which single-handedly held back the southern kingdom alliance.
Holders of the Platinum Ironblood Medal, awarded only to those who defeated great beasts.
The Northern Free Mercenary Alliance, the Holy Knight Order, the Administration Bureau, and more.
Skilled warriors who had remained in hiding throughout the Empire were now converging on the northern front— the finest talents available, leaving only the bare minimum to maintain imperial security.
“Captain, you see that?”
“Where?”
I turned to where Rie was pointing. A long procession of carriages stretched across the horizon, carrying participants for the subjugation.
Rie pointed to the most ornate one, belonging to Sword Saint Franz Eldin.
“I thought he’d be some burly musclehead since he’s stronger than the commander, but he’s kinda scrawny.”
Through the carriage’s curtain, I saw a red-haired man, half his face covered in tattoos—a strikingly handsome figure.
“Is that really him?”
“What, jealous? No way anyone but the Sword Saint would ride in the Imperial golden carriage bestowed by the Emperor.”
“…Seriously?”
“Yup, it’s legit. Didn’t they say the Sword Saint has red hair?”
I narrowed my eyes, peering closer. This wasn’t the grim, souls-like dark fantasy game I knew—No, he looked more like a chiseled male lead straight out of a romance fantasy. A familiar sense of déjà vu hit me.
In the game, Franz Eldin wasn’t a pretty boy.
He’d been horribly scarred from a battle with a demonic beast, his face disfigured by burns, and was half-transformed into a beast himself.
But this man showed no signs of beastification or scars.
For a moment, our eyes met. His gaze wasn’t the wild, frenzied look of madness but a calm, unshaken stillness. The power in those eyes was undeniably real.
Déjà vu.
Or perhaps unease.
Or perhaps a profound suspicion that bordered on certainty.
“…”
“Captain? What’s with that face, like you’re holding in a crap? Something serious?”
I shook my head, brushing off the thoughts.
“No, it’s nothing.”
My only task now was to ensure the subjugation’s success.
***
Preparations for the subjugation were far more thorough than for any great demonic beast.
Those gathered at the northern front sparred and trained together, sharpening their skills.
I balanced Wave training and teaching while joining the spars, mostly facing Irena.
Irena’s spear thrust forward. She flickered, feinting a frontal attack while aiming for my side.
I parried her spear with my sword, stepping forward and spinning my blade in the air.
My form vanished, reappearing at her side.
She blocked my wooden sword aimed at her carotid artery with her spear.
Using the disrupted flow, I flipped mid-air, landing behind her.
I lunged, timing my footwork to explode forward, slashing diagonally like a snake.
Irena stepped back, throwing her spear like a bullet.
It grazed my cheek as she gripped its shaft with just her index and thumb, slashing horizontally.
Her superhuman strength created a gust that pushed me back slightly.
Before I could adjust, she re-gripped the spear and closed the gap.
Then came her signature move—Sixfold Thrust, using her spear like a stiletto.
I drove my wooden sword into the ground, leaping to dodge, then slashed downward.
Irena countered, thrusting her spear in a circular motion toward my blade.
My sword struck her shoulder, and her spear slammed into my abdomen.
Thud!
A sound like flesh bursting rang out as Irena and I were thrown back. She dusted herself off, tossing her broken training spear aside.
“You’ve grown so much since we first met. I hardly recognize you.”
Wiping sweat from my chin, I dropped my broken sword, its handle dented from my grip.
“Still a long way to go.”
“We only used raw strength. If I’d used Aura or you’d used Wave, the outcome might’ve been different.”
“…Maybe.”
Even with Wave, I’d likely fall half a step short.
Until I reached Stage 4 of Wave Techniques, victory wasn’t guaranteed.
“Sparring’s done. Where to now?”
“My schedule’s clear. Probably training Wave Techniques.”
“If you’re free, come with me. I’ve got something for you.”
Irena gestured with her chin.
***
Weapons often broke on the northern front, so the front had its own weapon forges.
The steel sword I favored was crafted here. Irena led me into one of the many forges in the village.
“Smithers, you there?”
From the back, where the sound of hammering steel echoed, a man emerged.
Smithers, a bald blacksmith with soot smeared on his face, greeted Irena warmly.
“Commander! The reinforcement for your frost spear is done. Try it out and let me know if anything feels off. I’ll adjust it anytime.”
Smithers retrieved the frost spear from the forge’s depths.
Irena examined it closely.
Crafted from the remains of a great beast she’d slain, the spear emitted a chilling aura.
Nodding in satisfaction, she pointed to me.
“How’s the sword for Ian coming along?”
Smithers looked at me with interest before pulling out a pitch-black blade that seemed to pulse as if alive.
“Made from Radiata’s remains, it’s a reinforced armament. Seems to absorb blood, but… well, I’m not sure of the details. Probably similar to the abilities Radiata had.”
Reinforced Armament—weapons forged from demonic beast remains—inherited the beast’s abilities, making them unique.
They were a luxury typically wielded by commander-level figures.
Irena’s frost spear was one such weapon. She handed me the sword.
“What’s this?”
“My gift to you.”
“I’m grateful, but why this all of a sudden…?”
Irena grinned.
“You didn’t forget our promise, did you?”
“Of course not. You said we’d end this together.”
“Keep that promise. I will too.”
***
On a snow-covered hill at the northern front, tens of thousands of soldiers and hundreds of elite fighters gathered.
Before entering the battlefield, a final morale boost was in order.
The northern front’s commander-in-chief, Baldir Nordelheim, began his speech.
“The empire failed here twice. Our predecessors were buried in this land, and the north was soaked in their blood.”
He stepped forward, his aged eyes glinting with both weariness and resolve.
“Today, we face our third attempt.”
He gripped his sword hilt but, instead of drawing it, raised his head firmly.
“If we fall today, the empire falls. Kill them. Fight until the last one standing declares victory.”
Next, Irena Krauze, spear in hand, took over. She projected her voice across the hill.
“I am Irena Krauze, Commander of the Empire’s First Knight Division. I won’t offer you hope or reckless promises of survival.”
She scanned the assembled soldiers.
“My order is simple: become demons at the gates of hell. If the man beside you falls, step over his corpse.
If you lose an arm, tear into the enemy with your teeth. If you lose your legs, crawl and kill. Even in death, cling to the enemy’s feet.”
Raising her spear, she shouted,
“Killing the enemy is our only path to survival and the only respect we can pay to our fallen comrades.”
No cheers followed—only silence. Instead of shouts, the clanging of armor rang out. Spears, shields, capes, and banners fluttered in the snow.
“Let’s go.”
A ground-shaking march echoed from beyond the blizzard. The soldiers’ spear tips trembled in unison.
A towering figure emerged through the snowstorm—Erebeon, shaped like a colossal knight, with thousands of demonic beasts roaring behind it.
At the forefront, a silent great demonic beast bore a broken imperial flag on its shoulder, as if awaiting Erebeon’s command.
The familiar armor and rusted sword sparked a fleeting sense of déjà vu.
The blizzard was pierced by a trumpet’s call.
The soldiers charged toward the demonic beasts.