Lost.

I am completely lost. As such, I return to my old ways…

Just below the mountainous snowy Alps, I set up my hunting ground. Completely going at it in the wilds, I swing my sword against the various monsters from Snow Golems, White Wraiths, and even a few undead-type monsters.

I mechanically swing my sword and kill a monster and another. They come at me with a ferociousness that doesn’t shame their species. And I welcome them with the sharpness of my sword.

~swish…

The crispy ringing of my sword in the desolate whiteness echoes like a song of death.

My audience receives my performance with so much fanfare they continue falling and dying.

The Snow Golems that tower over three meters tall don’t stand a chance against my swordsmanship as in a few strokes, I reduce them to ignorable snow crystals.

The ghastly Wraiths’ crying doesn’t affect me the slightest as I drive my sword into their very existence annihilating whatever evil that controls them.

The many undead skeletons that try to swarm me all scatter into little pieces of bones.

I still don’t know where I am in Vanaheim. I lost the chance to ask Kruff where is this place, and returning to him feels awkward.

Heh~! To think that I will feel awkward.

I understand now. I must be human. This idea is growing stronger and stronger as my emotions get richer. The cynicism and sarcasm are a breath of fresh air.

In my moments of rest, where none of the monsters in my sight remains, I spend my time collecting the item drops. Fighting golems, wraiths, and undead is something I will never do in my past life— these mob drops are just utter trash.

The snow golem is especially the most hateful among golems as it doesn’t even drop any ores. Not to mention the Wraiths which are simply a bag of rotten air. I guess the undead are the most useful thing here. I can use their bones as fertilizer when winter ends. Sadly, I think this region is one of those magical regions where it is forever winter.

But once in a while, I get something of value.

I clasp the Ice Crystal from a relatively large Snow Golem. Unlike when this world is a game, for me to get my item drops, I have to dismantle the monsters with care and search for the drops for myself.

“This Ice Crystal is worth a lot of money…” I hum to myself happily, but then I realize I cannot sell it now, but that’s fine. I will just store it in my makeshift deerskin leather bag.

“Ugh…” I feel a sense of late regret. “If I manage to butcher and process all of those Lesser Wyverns, it could have been well worth a fortune.”

I carry my bag and stuff the Ice Crystal. Inside the bag, there are a lot of Grudge Stones which is the only rare drop from undead and Wraiths. I sense a blizzard coming from 6 o’clock. I should go now.

With one last glance at the snowy Alps, I finally decide to leave, yet just more regretful than yesterday.

***

Kruff while hiding from his vantage point watches Van finally leave.

At this moment, chaotic emotions clash in the old hunter’s mind. Kruff is hoping to offer aid against the monsters that dwell at the foot of the mountain, but it seems he doesn’t even need to.

“It is unbelievable…”

The Warrior is truly mighty. To confront a swarm of monsters and come out of it unscathed is a feat unimaginable to him. “Is the Legacy of Peerless really that strong?” He doubts that.

Kruff knows a Peerless too, and those who carry this legacy are invincible in one-on-one battles and are untouchable in a group battle. The power that Van shows is definitely beyond that of a Peerless.

“I hope he lives a good life…”

Turning his back, Kruff returns to his abode.

But then, a chill touches his spine.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

He turns around, only to experience a greater sadness once more.

***

“I finally found you…” The voice carries a certain pressure to it.

Ominous. Dreadful. Full of Hate.

The old Knigic is speechless as he gazes upon his only pupil. “Sofalia, it is nice to see you again…”

“I have reached it. Just like you, I am now a fully pledged Knigic.” Her blue hair in a bun unfurls and sways against the cold winds. She unsheathes her sword by her waist and reveals the deadly luster of Brilden, a rapier of legendary renown.

Sofalia, the Azure Winds, is here. Her sobriquet carries its tales to the whole continent and even outside, her name carries weight. The power she wields does not end with her martial strength and magical abilities but also extends to her political power.

The cold Frozen Countess of Blumend Kingdom is here, alone, and angry. “Sir Arkruff Mondsten! I finally found you! Tell me. Why did you betray the Kingdom? Where is the princess?”

Kruff, the old man who claims to be a hunter ignores Sofalia’s inquisition. Instead, he asks a question of his own. “How did you find me?”

“It is useless. You won't stall me. You know my attributes. In this cold mountain, I am definitely stronger than you.” Misty blue-white escapes the tip of her rapier.

Unlike the orthodox flexible rapier, Sofalia’s Brilden is sturdy just like a hardened needle. “Give it up! Turn yourself in! Don’t try to escape!”

“If you are here. Then, you must have been followed…” Kruff tries to speak to his disciple.

But, Sofalia will be hearing none of this. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Kruff shakes his head with a sigh as he summons his runic sword of pure magic. Runic letters scatter from his sword, while the pure orange lines of intricate circuits continue to pulse with mystical force.

“I take it that you wish to resist arrest,” Sofalia flexes her rapier summoning a small gale beside her. Slowly, the gale becomes stronger until it grows into a blizzard. “For the crimes of killing the Queen of Blumend, and by orders of the King, I sentence you to death!”

The blizzard dangerously transforms the environment into a harsher spectacle. Hails of ice pour down from the sky, while the chilling biting cold becomes anamorphic, transforming, into elemental wolves.

Kruff responds with a wide swing summoning flames from the tip of his runic sword. It melts the snow away including the few ice elemental wolves that are within his range.

The sun rests on the top of his palm. It is so small and has only a diameter of about seven (7) centimeters, yet the power it carries is too contradictory to its size. “Sun’s Core—” Kruff drives the ‘Sun’ on where he stands creating a magnificent explosion.

The temperature fluctuates from hotness to coldness intermittently.

Kruff’s power melts the existing snow, and even Sofalia’s magic ceases to exist.

“I am guilty, yes… But so is the Queen!”

“Slander!”

Sofalia angrily retorts with her own skill. Misty air pervades her breath, and white clouds seem to accumulate from where she stands. “Summon: Fenrir!” At her call, an enormous wolf arises from her shadow.

The anti-these of gods, Fenrir, a legendary creature of death and god slaying. Its ice attribute wildly encroaches on the surroundings. The already cold Alps have become colder at the appearance of the monstrous half-god wolf.

“Dwell in my sword,” Sofalia commands her 'summon' with difficulty, as slowly, the veins around her eyes turn blue. And in the blink of an eye, she disappears… only to reappear on Kruff’s face with unprecedented speed.

She swings her sword with imprecision, but that doesn’t matter as what she lacks in accuracy, she can make up with strength.

Kruff receives her strike with ease by parrying it with his own sword, however, his defense is proven futile as the chilling cold penetrates the magical defenses he surrounds himself with.

His fingers turn icy blue, as the magic power that dwells in his conjured runic sword flickers between existence and inexistence.

Sofalia comes at him with vigor in her every swing. The whites in her eyes are becoming red from forcing herself to wield magic beyond her means. Every strike burdens her and Kruff at the same time. The receiver and recipient suffer every time their weapons and magic collide.

Finally, Kruff’s sword diminishes to the length of a dagger. He is exhausted, and sweating with difficulty. He falls to one knee as he reaches his limits.

Brilden, the rapier, inches on his throat threateningly, and to Sofalia’s pause, she asks. “Why is the Queen guilty?”

Kruff looks back at his pupil, and there is pity in his eyes. “The Queen has found out about you. You are the King’s bastard daughter…”

“I already know that…” Sofalia softly replies. “The King is doting on me too much. He had you, a Knigic, to teach me. I already knew a long time… The King wants me to rule after him… But the Queen doesn’t want to. it has been a long time already. I should have forgotten about it, but... I treated the Queen like my mother... You killed her... and then you kidnapped her daughter...”

In small sobs, Sofalia opens up to Kruff. "The Kingdom is in danger... I so much want to see my younger sister, but that can come for another time..."

The King of Blumend has two daughters. The first, Sofalia, a bastard daughter from the King’s youth, and the second, Pyla, a legitimate daughter of the King and Queen.

“I have come here because I want your help… and not to execute you…” Sofalia lets go of her killing intent and lowers her sword. “I don’t know who to turn to, anymore… If there are really people following me, then we will deal with them. The Kingdom is in turmoil. Please return to Blumend, the Kingdom needs you…”

Sofalia and Kruff… They share a complicated history together.

“Don’t get me wrong…” Sofalia adds, narrowing her eyes with hesitation. “I still hate you for taking away my sister from me… I turned to you because there are some things bigger than me. I shall protect my Kingdom using any means necessary.”

And then… a blur…

Sofalia’s eyes get blurry as in an instant, her back slams on the ground while snow flies everywhere. Grabbing her throat is a crushing force that ought to pinch her life to death with a thought.

She cannot breathe.

Cannot think.

Di.e.

She will die.

Long dark brown hair tickles her nose, and a furious pair of eyes bear down on her with overwhelming momentum. “Tell me the word, Kruff… I can kill her as easy as breathing…” These are the last words Sofalia hears until she ultimately faints.