Chapter 223: Ravarn Tribe

The Balant Fortress.

I never thought I’d set foot here of all places.

Perched on the northernmost edge of the empire, the fortress stood like a scar carved into the earth—its black stone walls stretching toward the horizon, where the snow never melted and the wind howled like a living thing. This was the frontline, the line that separated humans from the demon tribes lurking beyond the frozen border.

In the game, this was the starting point—the place where the story began. But standing here now, in the flesh, the air felt heavier. The cold bit deeper. The scent of iron and oil clung to every inch of the battlements. The soldiers here didn’t have the luxury of smiling; their eyes were sharp, their movements disciplined, their breath clouding in the frigid air.

I exhaled slowly, watching the mist leave my mouth. “So this is where it all starts.”

The fortress had a reputation that wasn’t exaggerated.

Every brick of its walls carried history, soaked in blood and sacrifice. The massive ballistae mounted along the ramparts gleamed under the pale sunlight, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

“Balant Fortress…” I murmured under my breath, letting the name roll off my tongue like a whisper from history. “The edge of humanity.”

It wasn’t just a fortress. It was a border between civilization and chaos—a living reminder that peace was never truly permanent, only borrowed.

For the Draken Duchy, this land was sacred.

“Our ancestors founded our house here,” Alice said, her voice steady, carrying both pride and resolve. “They cut down every monster and demon tribe that infested the North. It’s time to reenact that history.”

Her eyes gleamed like frost under sunlight, reflecting the fire of generations past.

’She really is a Northerner,’ I thought with a faint smile. That stubbornness, that unyielding will—it was carved into her very blood.

Alice tightened her grip on her sword, the steel glinting as she scanned the surroundings with a curious mix of vigilance and excitement. It reminded me less of a noblewoman preparing for war and more of a child on a treasure hunt—eyes sparkling, searching for a hidden gift.

As with the Velra incident, I knew one thing for certain: nothing ever went according to plan when Alice was involved.

I stayed on edge, quietly surveying the fortress walls, the cracks in the ramparts, the distant forests that looked far too still. If the demon tribe were to strike, this would be the perfect stage.

Of course, unlike Alice, I hoped nothing would happen.

“…No matter how I look at it,” she said suddenly, turning toward me with that piercing gaze, “you would have made a fine knight.”

I chuckled, scratching the back of my neck. “Ha-ha, I’ll take that as a compliment. But I still have a long way to go.”

Alice studied me for a moment longer than necessary before quickly looking away. The faintest hint of red colored the tips of her ears beneath her silvery hair.

The sight tugged at a small smile from me.

Protecting her—it wasn’t my original plan. But somewhere along the way, the role of ’guardian’ had become more than just a duty.

’Still,’ I thought, glancing at her determined figure, ’for someone like me, standing beside a person like her… it’s both a privilege and an obstacle.’

The wind howled softly across the northern plains, carrying the weight of history and the scent of something approaching—something inevitable.

Alice didn’t respond right away. Her eyes lingered on the horizon, where the white of the snow met the gray of the clouds, an endless blur of cold light and silence. The wind caught her hair, making it flutter like a banner of silver flame.

“Do you know what separates a knight from a noble?” she finally asked, her tone calm but distant.

I blinked at her sudden question. “I’m guessing you’re not talking about titles.”

“No.” Her lips curved slightly—not a smile, but something close. “It’s purpose. Nobles inherit their duty. Knights earn it.”

Her hand rested lightly on the hilt of her sword. “Most nobles serve because they must. But knights… knights fight because they choose to. I envy that.”

That caught me off guard. For all her pride, I never thought Alice Draken could feel envy toward anyone.

“…You?” I asked quietly. “Envious?”

She gave a soft, almost self-mocking laugh. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? A duchess wishing she were a mere knight.”

“Maybe,” I said, crossing my arms. “But it kind of makes sense. A knight’s honor is their own. Yours is… borrowed—from your family name, your bloodline, the North.”

Her gaze shifted toward me, sharp and assessing. “Borrowed, hm?”

“Yeah.” I met her eyes without flinching. “You carry the weight of a house that’s been fighting for centuries. Maybe what you want isn’t to be noble—it’s to be free of it, even just once.”

For a heartbeat, she said nothing. The only sound was the wind scraping across the stone walls. Then, her voice dropped lower—quieter, almost thoughtful.

“Freedom.” She tasted the word as if it were foreign on her tongue. “You make it sound easy.”

“I never said it was easy.” I smiled faintly. “Just… worth wanting.”

Her expression softened, the frost in her eyes melting for a brief moment. “You speak like someone who’s already lost it.”

“Maybe I have,” I said simply.

For a long while, neither of us spoke. The cold wind rushed between us, carrying distant echoes—the clang of weapons, the creak of armor, the faint scent of oil and steel.

Then, Alice broke the silence again, this time with her usual confidence.

“Then you’ll fight beside me, won’t you?” she said, turning back to the fortress gates. “If freedom is what you’ve lost, then help me protect the one I’m fighting for.”

“…And what’s that?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“The North.” She smiled faintly, eyes bright with that fierce, unyielding light. “And everything it stands for.”

I sighed quietly, looking up at the snow-filled sky.

’She’ll never change,’ I thought. ’Even standing at the edge of the world, she’d rather burn than bend.’

But despite myself, a grin tugged at the corner of my lips.

“Well, my lady,” I said, lowering my head slightly in mock reverence, “I suppose that means I’m stuck with you.”

“Good,” she said, turning her gaze forward again. “Because I wasn’t planning on letting you go.”

The wind howled louder, carrying with it a faint, rhythmic tremor—like distant footsteps beneath the ice.

Neither of us noticed it yet, but something was stirring beyond the white horizon. Something that would soon shatter the uneasy peace of the North.

—-

As with any demon tribe, hierarchy was everything. Strength ruled above all.

But the Ravarn Tribe, in particular, embodied this law more than any other. To them, respect wasn’t earned through wisdom or age—it was seized by power alone.

“Tch. What can such a weakling even do?”

When the warriors of the Ravarn Tribe heard that a member of a minor clan—one without any notable power or reputation—was responsible for devising the coming battle plan, their scorn was immediate.

Murmurs spread through the camp like wildfire, filled with disdain and disbelief.

“Watch your tongue,” one of the captains barked, his golden eyes glinting. “This strategy comes directly from Lord Dreck

himself.”

That name alone silenced the noise.

“Cough… If it’s an order from the True Dragon, then we have no choice.”

Grudging acceptance followed. Even the proudest of the Ravarn warriors knew better than to question Dreck the True Dragon, the conqueror of the Black Peaks, the ruler whose power could crush mountains and whose wrath turned fields to ash.

To oppose him was to invite death.

And so, despite their pride, they obeyed.

“Prepare yourselves,” the captain growled. “Our next target lies in the human lands.”

“Humans, huh?” one warrior sneered. “Those fragile creatures still dare defy us?”

“They’ve always relied on numbers and tricks,” another spat. “It’s because the demon tribes remain divided that we’ve been forced to hide in this barren realm.”

“Once we subjugate the gargoyle we captured, everything will change. The tribes will unite under the True Dragon’s will.”

The camp roared in agreement—growls, laughter, and the sound of sharpening blades filling the air.

Then, amidst the chaos, a low, guttural sound cut through.

Grrr.

One figure stood apart from the rest, leaning against a jagged rock, expression dark and unreadable.

The irritated growl was his. He despised their arrogance—their blind faith in brute strength.

While the others celebrated the thought of blood and conquest, he silently reviewed his mission.

Infiltration. Assassination.

Tasks that required more than muscle—tasks that demanded cunning, patience, and the ability to blend among prey.

Not easy, but not beyond him.

Because he wasn’t like the others.

Not entirely demon, not entirely human—something in between, born of shadows and deceit.

The faint light from the fire pits caught on his skin, and for a fleeting moment, the dark, smoky texture of his flesh shimmered—turning a soft, human-like apricot hue before fading back into the night.

His lips curled into a faint, humorless smile.

“Humans…” he murmured, voice low enough to be lost beneath the wind.

“…Let’s see how fragile you really are.”

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