Chapter 47: The Divine Frost Blade: Niflheim [1]

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The next morning, the funeral for all the brave soldiers who fell in the great battle against a Tier 4 Spiralwalker to protect the country began. Louis walked there with his father; his allies close behind. A little over four hundred fallen warriors were slowly carried to the cemetery, each one having sacrificed their life for the Frostbane Kingdom.

The morning air hung heavy with sorrow. The sky itself seemed dimmed, as if mourning alongside the kingdom. The procession stretched on endlessly, rows of coffins draped in the kingdom’s banners, borne by solemn soldiers. Drums echoed through the streets; each beat served as a stark reminder of sacrifice.

Louis walked at the front beside Gustaf, his expression calm but his eyes sharp, taking in every detail. Behind them followed Robert, Catrise, Mirai, and the others. Selene and Melisa clung to Helena’s side, their innocent eyes wide as they tried to grasp the ceremony’s weight.

The newly built cemetery was vast. At its center stood a towering monument of black stone, the names of the fallen engraved in gold. The monument sometimes pulsed faintly with Fantasium, a protective enchantment Gustaf had ordered to ensure the names would never fade.

Louis stopped before the monument. His aura remained restrained yet visible, a faint ash-colored glow surrounding him. He raised his hand, and silence fell over the crowd. Ashes turned into small particles of light that drifted down from the sky, creating a solemn, otherworldly atmosphere.

“These men and women,” Louis began, his voice carrying clearly across the field, “did not die in vain. They stood against the follower of the Abyssal Mother, a threat that could have consumed our land, and they gave up their lives so the rest of us could continue living. Their sacrifice is eternal, and so shall be their memory.”

The crowd bowed their heads. Even Zorba, usually irreverent, lowered his gaze, revealing that some trace of humanity still remained within him.

Louis continued, his tone sharpening. “But let this not be only a day of mourning. Let it be a reminder. The Dimensional Labyrinth will not stop. The Entities will not stop. The Cult of the Abyssal Mother will not stop. If we falter, if we grow complacent, then their deaths will mean nothing. We must grow stronger, together, so no more names need to be carved into stone.”

Gustaf glanced at his son, surprised by the maturity in his words. Robert’s eyes watered as he whispered, “Your mother would be proud.”

As the coffins were lowered into the earth, Anastasia finally appeared, walking slowly with Pekorine at her side. Her face was pale, her eyes swollen from crying. She carried a single white lily, trembling as she approached the grave of her fallen mother.

Louis watched her carefully, sensing how fragile she was. He stepped forward and lowered his voice. “Anastasia… I know words cannot heal what you’ve lost. But you are not alone. Your mother gave everything for this kingdom, and now it is our duty to protect you, as she once protected us.”

Anastasia looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I… I don’t know if I can be strong like her…”

Louis placed a hand on her shoulder. “Then lean on us until you can. That is what family is for.”

Anastasia was surprised that the usually cold and calculating prince showed such emotion. “Family?”

Louis nodded. “Yes. My mother always considered your mothers as her family, and so will we. Don’t forget that you have us as well.”

Anastasia was deeply moved. She cried even harder and nodded. “Thank you…”

The funeral continued in silence, but Louis’ words lingered in the hearts of everyone present. The monument glowed brighter as the last coffin was lowered, sealing the memory of the fallen into the kingdom’s history.

As the crowd slowly dispersed, Louis remained standing, staring at the monument. He knew this was only the beginning. Soma had been one battle, but far greater storms were coming—not only for the kingdom but for what awaited in the Sinners Academy.

His knowledge of the game remained useful, and he intended to use it as much as possible to prevent the coming calamities. Yet just as had happened with Soma, this world was unpredictable and moved in ways that did not always align with the game.

Many details had been skipped or glossed over, and perhaps the game itself had never truly represented what this world really was.

He looked at the names of the fallen in silence. Among them were his close aides.

Elises.

Fernand.

Belladine.

And though he had not spent much time with her, Tisha.

“Without Tisha and so many soldiers gone, our country is at a critical point. We are now incredibly vulnerable to invasion,or worse, a coup,” Louis thought. “We must prepare for the worst… And I have to find someone who can take Tisha’s position. But is there anybody in this country with strength and a chivalrous heart comparable to hers? I dare say there are no equals to her greatness.”

The prince slowly walked toward Tisha’s grave. The glowing Eternal Frost Blade, forged from the Dragon King’s Ice, shone faintly as he looked at it from afar. He was curious about the divine sword. While the crowd dispersed and people moved on, Louis admired Tisha’s grave.

“This weapon was not given to anyone nor stored in the treasury because it was said that it would never leave your side…” Louis murmured. “Whenever someone tried to take it elsewhere, the blade would suddenly appear close to you, Tisha… I wonder if Niflheim misses you.”

“I do… I really miss her…”

“I should take my pills; I’m beginning to hear voices again…” Louis sighed. “Did I miss taking them this morning?” He turned to walk away.

“It was me… you can hear me, Dragon prince.”

“…?!”

Louis turned back toward the glowing blue sword. His eyes widened as he realized the voice was not in his mind but originated from the divine blade itself.

Niflheim glowed with a faint azure light, spreading thin threads of Divine Mana that connected directly to Louis’ Fantasy Heart.

The voice of the sword did not reach his mind but entered his heart.

“Wha…?”

Louis glanced around to ensure no one was nearby, then leaned closer to the sword, his eyes gleaming with shock.

“Is this true? Can you speak?!”

“I can… but not many can hear my voice… only those who are chosen, or who possess the Dragon King’s Bloodline.”

“So nobody else…? Wait, what about Tisha’s daughter?”

“In the past, Tisha and many of the Dragon King’s followers received his blood as a reward and awakened a small, weaker version of his bloodline… Anastasia does possess such a bloodline, but her heart is too closed. You possess one that has opened to the world and spread your Fantasy upon reality. This is why you can hear me.”

“Ah… I see…”

Louis could hardly believe it.

This was an opportunity unlike any other, one that could change his life forever.

An artifact created by the Dragon King could speak to him and possess incredible knowledge about many things.

“Niflheim… are you also mourning Tisha?”

“Yes… I spent so many years with her… I was bonded to her soul as her Divine Soul Gear. But now she’s gone. She did everything she could and died against that monster. That monster who took so many lives. And to think he was only one of many… I wonder if the next time one of those monsters visits our country, it will be the end of it.”

“…”

Louis fell silent. He did not know how to respond.

The sword was not wrong. Soma had been only one, though certainly among the strongest members. Many other members of the Abyssal Mother’s Cult remained.

Perhaps now they all harbored a personal vendetta against the Frostbane Kingdom and would attempt to ruin it with everything they had.

However, the Abyssal Mother Cult was only one of many factions that would one day aim to destroy not just Frostbane but the rest of the world’s countries. They would constantly try to obliterate the Sinners Academy, which was raising those capable of fighting back one day.

“I met Tisha many times during my childhood, but I never had the time to truly know her or learn about her,” Louis said, feeling ashamed. “I know I might not be the worthiest, perhaps I truly am not worthy at all, but Niflheim… for this country, for the country your master loved and protected, can you lend us your strength?”

“…”

Naturally, Niflheim fell silent after Louis’ words. He was indeed being very shameless by asking such a thing right after Tisha had died.

But as Niflheim herself had said, they were running out of time. Soon enough, in a year, perhaps a little more or less, another disaster was certain to strike this country, and perhaps the world as a whole.

Thus, Louis needed all the help he could get to prevent his country and the Sinners Academy from being destroyed.

“By Tisha’s will, you cannot wield me, Prince Louis.”

“…? Why?”

“Because she told me before dying to wait for Anastasia to be ready.”

“…”

“She said that her daughter was born with even more talent than she could ever hold, and that perhaps Anastasia, once she awakened her true strength, could one day draw the true Primordial Power within me, which not even Tisha could.”

“So that’s how it is. I suppose I was never worthy.”

“You are, but you were not chosen.”

“Hah…”

Louis knew that forcibly taking her would likely end with his arm completely frozen, so he restrained himself from acting recklessly and instead appealed to Niflheim’s sympathy.

“Even then, even if I cannot wield you, I still need your help, Niflheim. I will make sure Anastasia grows strong and becomes worthy of wielding you. But until then, do you truly plan to stay here while your power and knowledge could be used elsewhere, protecting and saving lives that Tisha would have jumped to save?”

“You’re good with words, Prince. But I know what you want.”

“And I am not hiding it. I want your help, your knowledge, and everything you can offer for the good of my country. Our goals should align, right?”

“Yes… they do.”

Niflheim fell silent for some time before speaking aloud.

“I accept your proposal with one condition. You said you were going to train Anastasia, right?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to promise that you will elevate her to the level of a Sword Master. It will be the first stage where she will be able to properly wield me.”

“…I understand.”

“This will be a soul vow, and the time limit is three years.”

“A Soul Vow?”

“Do you accept? If you accomplish the vow, I will even reward you. But if you cannot help her achieve that level within three years, then your heart and soul shall be frozen under my divine ice.”

“What? So you’re willing to kill me if I don’t accomplish this condition?”

“Yes.”

“Even if I am the son of Benladra, the daughter of the Dragon King—your creator?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Crazy… and I thought you were rational, but it seems you’re an insane weapon that desires nothing but to be wielded by your successor now, huh? Three years to make someone a Sword Master is ridiculous.”

“Those are my conditions… if you don’t agree, you can leave. I am mourning my beloved master, so leave me alone, Prince Louis.”

“Tsk…”

Louis clicked his tongue. He was furious about such a ridiculous condition, but even if he wanted to reject it, he had to admit that Niflheim was immensely powerful.

Having her by his side would be of incredible help. She would be able to teach him many things… He already planned to train with Anastasia and help her rise to the level of her mother, and beyond that level one day.

Sword Masters were not the final form of a swordsman. They could further ascend into Sword Saints, Sword Kings, and then Sword Gods. Swordsmanship was a form of Martial Arts, but intensively practicing the sword alone required all sorts of special breathing and body-refining methods, creating a unique Cultivation Path.

Louis had only skimmed the surface of this Path, learning the weakest form of Sword Aura from Fernand. He had yet to fully pursue the path of the sword because he was also aiming to master the lance, his mother’s preferred weapon.

“Very well. Let’s get this over with.”

Louis accepted in the end. The offer was simply too good to pass up.

“Place your hand on my blade.”

“…Like this?”

Louis’ hand touched Niflheim’s frost blade. An indescribable cold immediately enveloped him completely.

“A-Ah…! W-Wha…? What?!”

And then his entire body froze, becoming an ice statue.

Niflheim had completely frozen him after only a single touch. This was the extent of her power.

However.

The cold rapidly gathered at a single point inside Louis’ Fantasy Heart, the faint, phantasmal Fantasy World within, mostly a non-tangible “land” born from his own mind.

There, at the center of this bleak wasteland where ashes never stopped falling from the sky, a huge frost blade was etched, piercing deep into the ground.

Into Louis’ very Fantasy Heart, his Mind and Consciousness.

“Aaahh!”

When Louis opened his eyes again, he was fine, not even wet from melting ice. It was as if what he had experienced was merely an illusion.

Or perhaps the representation of Niflheim’s incredible power, a sword forged from the Primordial Ice of the Dragon King of Yggdrasil.

It wasn’t even metal, yet it was stronger than any magical metal ever discovered.

Just ice born from the Dragon King’s Primordial Power.

“What is this?”

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