Chapter 716: Frost Queen.. 2

“Knights—hold the line! Don’t let them push any further!”

The command cut through the chaos, sharp and steady.

“Mages, fall back and focus on disruption! You don’t need to kill them—just slow them down!”

He turned slightly, already issuing the next order without pause.

“Guards, return to the inner districts and protect the citizens! Make sure evacuation routes stay open—no one gets left behind!”

His eyes found a familiar figure among the scattered fighters.

“Jacob!”

The leader of the Lapstone mercenaries snapped his head toward him.

“Take your men and assist the guards. Prioritize the civilians—get as many out as you can!”

There was a brief pause before Roverick added, his voice firm—

“Don’t worry. The reward stands. That castle I promised you will be yours.”

For a moment, something shifted.

The panic didn’t disappear.

The fear didn’t vanish.

But the chaos—

It lessened.

Just enough.

Men who had been frozen in place moved again. Lines reformed, however fragile, and orders were followed. It wasn’t a solution.

But it was something.

Roverick exhaled slowly, his gaze lifting once more toward the advancing giants.

Even now, his thoughts refused to settle.

Why?

Why was the Grand Duke acting like this?

From the very beginning, something had felt off. Luther hadn’t come here with the urgency one would expect, nor with the intent to defend the north as a priority.

It was subtle.

But noticeable.

As if his purpose lay elsewhere.

And yet—

Even then—

Roverick couldn’t understand this.

No matter what his true objective was, surely he wouldn’t go this far. Surely he wouldn’t stand by and watch an entire city fall without lifting a hand.

The man was still a knight of the empire.

At least—

He was supposed to be.

Roverick clenched his jaw, forcing the thoughts aside.

There was no time for this.

No answers waiting.

Only the battlefield in front of him.

Slowly, he stepped forward, his aged body straightening as he gathered his mana, letting it rise despite the strain it placed on him. The air around him shifted faintly, reacting to the pressure building within.

Even if his opponents were monsters that could rival dragons…

Even if this was a fight he might not walk away from—

That didn’t matter.

He was still the lord of this city.

And as long as he stood—

It would not fall so easily.

“My knights—gather to me!”

Roverick’s voice cut through the chaos once more, sharper now, heavier with intent. Those who could still stand responded immediately, pulling back from scattered skirmishes and forming around him, their battered armor and trembling hands betraying the strain they were under.

He didn’t give them time to hesitate.

His sword lifted, and with it, a surge of green mana condensed along the blade, wrapping around it in a tight, controlled flow. It didn’t flare wildly like a mage’s spell; instead, it settled into something denser, sharper—refined through years of discipline rather than raw output.

Ahead of him, a giant broke through the remains of a collapsed street, its massive frame forcing its way forward as it locked onto the gathering knights.

It charged.

Fast.

Too fast for something that size.

Roverick stepped forward to meet it.

“Haaah—!!”

The shout tore from his chest as he drove his mana forward, his body moving despite the strain, despite the years weighing down on him.

The old tiger of the north—

Bared its fangs once more.

…

Far above the battlefield, where the noise of war faded into distant echoes, the Grand Duke finally moved.

For the first time since the assault began, Luther Heavens shifted his stance, his gaze lifting toward the sky as if something had finally aligned with whatever he had been waiting for.

His voice was quiet.

But decisive.

Without looking back, he gave a single command.

“Move.”

The Heaven’s Knights responded instantly

They vanished.

One moment they stood behind him, the next they were gone, their presence scattering into the distance as they pursued something unseen beyond the horizon.

And then—

Luther disappeared as well.

High above the clouds, where the air thinned and the world below became distant and small, his figure reappeared.

The sky stretched endlessly around him, but something about it—

Was wrong.

His crimson eyes narrowed.

Then—

He swung.

SWIIISH—!!

A single slash tore through the sky itself.

White light followed the arc of his blade, cutting cleanly across the heavens as if the very atmosphere had been split apart. The clouds parted instantly, severed in a perfect line—

And something hidden beyond them was revealed.

A dark mass.

Not just a cloud.

Something deeper.

Something watching.

Luther’s expression hardened.

“…Found you.”

From within the darkness, a presence stirred.

Then—

A voice.

“…Hm.”

It wasn’t loud.

But it carried weight far beyond sound, pressing against the space around him in a way that felt… wrong.

[A human…?]

A pause.

[No… an ascended.]

The words came with quiet curiosity, as if the speaker was observing something mildly interesting rather than confronting a threat.

Luther frowned, his grip tightening around his weapon as his gaze locked onto the figure forming within the dark cloud.

A silhouette.

Masked.

Indistinct.

Its shape shifted slightly, as if it didn’t fully belong to a single form, and no matter how closely he looked, he couldn’t make out what lay beneath it.

But one thing was clear.

It wasn’t human.

“…You,” Luther said, his voice steady but edged with caution. “What are you?”

His mana responded immediately.

It didn’t surge outward in chaos—instead, it compressed.

Condensed.

Drawn inward until the very space around him began to distort under the pressure.

The air grew heavier.

Denser.

As if the sky itself had been forced into submission.

The pressure climbed rapidly, far beyond what any normal being could endure, reaching a point where even the atmosphere seemed to strain under his presence.

Around him, a white energy gathered—pure, concentrated, and overwhelmingly intense.

The mark of an ascended existence.

And yet—

Even as that power manifested—

The thing within the dark cloud didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

It simply watched.

[My… looks like I’ve failed… she will be mad… but oh well, even elegance needs a little failure~]

The voice drifted from within the dark mass, light and almost amused, as if the situation didn’t concern it in the slightest.

Luther’s eyes narrowed.

He couldn’t catch every word, but the tone alone was enough to tell him this was no ordinary entity. Whatever it was, it wasn’t threatened—not by him, not by his presence, not even by the pressure he was exerting on the sky itself.

That alone was enough to make him act.

His sword moved.

Not with hesitation—

But with certainty.

[Heavenly Sword Technique]

[First Form – Balance]

SWOOOOSHHH—!!

A sharp hum rang out as his blade cut forward, white energy gathering and unfolding into a perfect arc. It didn’t explode outward wildly; instead, it carved through the space ahead with absolute precision, clearing everything in its path as if the sky itself had been erased along that line.

Clean.

Exact.

Unavoidable.

Or at least—

It should have been.

By the time the strike reached the dark cloud—

There was nothing there.

The presence had vanished.

Not dispersed.

Not blocked.

Simply… gone.

“…Tsk.”

For the first time in a long while—

Luther had missed.

Not because his strike lacked power.

But because his target had slipped beyond it entirely.

His gaze lingered on the empty sky for a moment longer, sharp and calculating, before the pressure around him slowly eased.

…

Far below—

“Count!”

Roverick turned slightly as one of his knights rushed toward him, armor battered, breath uneven as the clash with the giants continued around them.

“What is it?” he demanded, deflecting a chunk of falling debris with a quick motion of his blade.

“The Grand Duke—he’s disappeared!”

“Disappeared where—”

Roverick cut himself off with a sharp click of his tongue, shaking his head.

“Tsk… forget him. Ignore that man for now. Focus on the battle!”

There was no time to question it.

No time to rely on someone who had already chosen not to act.

“Understo—

The knight’s words never finished.

A jagged spike of ice erupted violently from the ground beneath him, piercing straight through his body in a single motion. It drove upward from below, tearing through armor, flesh, and bone before bursting out through his head.

For a second—

He didn’t even scream.

Then—

His body went limp.

“GAGAGA—!!”

A deep, guttural laugh followed.

The giant responsible loomed nearby, its massive frame hunched slightly as it looked down at the impaled body like a child amused by a broken toy.

Roverick’s expression darkened instantly.

“You bastard—!”

Anger surged through him, sharp and immediate.

His mana flared again, green energy condensing tightly around his body as he launched forward, his movement cutting across the battlefield like an arrow.

In a blink, he closed the distance.

“DIE—!!”

His blade came down with everything he had behind it, the force of the strike aimed to cleave straight through the giant’s core.

SWIIIISSSHHH—!!

The air split—

But—

BOOOF—!!

The strike stopped.

Completely.

A massive hand had caught it.

“Commendable human…”

What?

Before the count could react.

Crackle!

Ice and frost already covered his feet his heavy metal armor completely freezing over as well.

“Count!”

Several knights and mages shouted his name at once, their voices filled with urgency as they tried to push toward him—but they couldn’t break through. Each of them was already locked in desperate fights of their own, barely holding back the surrounding Frost Giants.

Roverick didn’t look at them.

Even now, his eyes remained fixed forward, steady despite the situation he was in.

“…So,” he said slowly, his breath faint in the cold air, “you’re the chieftain of these beasts…”

Gallan stood before him.

He hadn’t even needed to move much—just the slightest lift of a finger had been enough. Frost had already crept along Roverick’s body without him noticing, locking his limbs in place before he could react.

By the time he realized it—

It was over.

If he had still been in his prime, his instincts might have caught it. His body might have moved before the ice could take hold.

But now—

Age, exhaustion, and the chaos of the battlefield had finally caught up to him.

Gallan stepped closer

“You are the lord of this filth,” he said, his voice calm, almost casual despite the destruction around them. “As such… I shall grant you the honor of witnessing its end.”

A faint smile spread across his face.

Then—

The ice obeyed.

It shifted around Roverick’s body, lifting him effortlessly into the air. His frozen form turned against his will, forced to face the city behind him.

His city.

What remained of it.

Flames.

Rubble.

Knights being crushed beneath overwhelming force.

Mages collapsing as their mana ran dry.

Civilians fleeing in panic, only to be cut off, their escape routes collapsing one after another.

Everywhere he looked—

There was suffering.

“Wretched beast…!” Roverick’s voice strained as he forced the words out, anger cutting through the helplessness creeping in. “Why are you doing this?!”

For the first time—

Gallan’s expression shifted.

Not into rage.

But into something colder.

“Human…” he said quietly, his gaze lowering slightly as if disappointed. “Your kind truly ignores what it once knew.”

His eyes met Roverick’s again.

“You ask for a reason,” he continued, “as if you yourselves have ever needed one.”

The air grew heavier.

“We are no different.”

Roverick frowned, his mind struggling to grasp the meaning behind those words.

Humans had their reasons.

They hunted monsters to survive.

To protect.

To expand.

That was—

Normal.

Wasn’t it?

But Gallan didn’t wait for an answer.

And Roverick didn’t have the luxury to think it through.

Because the screams—

They kept coming.

Louder.

Closer.

And all he could do—

Was watch.

Unable to move.

“…Just continue to watch in despair, human.”

Gallan’s voice was quiet, almost indifferent, as if what unfolded before them was nothing more than a passing scene.

Roverick said nothing.

At first.

But slowly, something in his eyes began to change.

The resolve that had carried him through countless battles… began to crack, worn down by the sight forced upon him. His city—his people—his legacy—everything he had built and protected for years was being reduced to ruin right before him, piece by piece, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He had already lost so much.

From the moment the northern lands began to fall, from the first wave of monstrous assaults, from every retreat, every sacrifice—

And now this.

Now he was being made to watch the end of it all.

“Count!”

“Protect the Count!”

The voices reached him through the chaos.

Even now, knights and mages still fought, still struggled, still bled—trying to reach him, trying to save him, placing their hopes on a man who could no longer even move.

Roverick’s gaze trembled slightly.

They still believed in him.

That was the cruelest part.

Because he knew what he had to do.

He needed to order them to retreat. To abandon this place, to save themselves while they still could. These weren’t ordinary soldiers—many of them were talented, capable of surviving if they chose to run.

They could live.

But they didn’t.

They stayed.

For him.

For this city.

For something that was already slipping through their fingers.

Roverick closed his eyes for a brief moment, the weight of that decision pressing down on him heavier than any blade.

Bravery—

Was not always wisdom.

And honor—

Too often led to meaningless death.

If anyone had to remain behind… if anyone had to be the one to fall with this city—

Then it should be him.

The old fool.

So the young could live.

A faint breath escaped him.

And when his eyes opened again—

The hesitation was gone.

Gallan watched him closely, and for a moment, a subtle hint of satisfaction crossed his expression, as if he had already seen this outcome.

But then—

Crack.

The ice encasing Roverick fractured.

Not fully.

But enough.

Mana surged from within him, not wildly, but tightly compressed, gathering deeper and deeper into his core. The air around him trembled faintly as the pressure built, his body straining under the force he was forcing it to contain.

Gallan’s eyes narrowed.

He understood immediately.

“…Pointless, human.”

Roverick let out a quiet chuckle, despite the blood at the corner of his lips.

“…Maybe.”

He didn’t argue.

Because the giant was right.

At this point, even if he gave everything, even if he burned what little he had left, it wouldn’t be enough to turn the tide of the battle.

His self-destruction would be pointless.

But that wasn’t the point.

If he could create even a moment—

A single opening—

Then that would be enough.

Enough to blind them.

Enough to give one final order.

Enough to let the others escape.

That alone—

Would make it worth it.

Gallan, unaware of the full extent of his intent, simply watched, confident that even if the human self-destructed, it wouldn’t matter. He could freeze the blast, suppress it before it caused any real damage.

So he let him continue.

And just as Roverick reached his limit—

Just as the mana within him peaked, ready to burst—

VOOOOOSHHHH—!!!

The sky tore open with a violent rush of air.

Something—

Descended.

BOOOOOM—!!!

The impact shook the entire battlefield, cracking the frozen ground as a massive force crashed down at its center. Frost and debris scattered outward, a shockwave rippling through giants and soldiers alike, forcing everything nearby to stagger.

Then—

Silence.

Not complete.

But enough.

A presence spread.

Heavy.

Overwhelming.

Commanding.

…. And Absolute.

It pressed down on everything in its vicinity, forcing even the giants to halt, their massive bodies stiffening as if something instinctive told them—

Kneel.

From the center of the impact—

A figure stood.

A silhouette, slowly becoming clearer as the frost settled around them.

And with it—

A cold unlike anything before began to spread.

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