"So," Alice said, her voice calm but tinged with pride, "what do you think? Impressive, isn’t it?"
We stood before Balant Fortress, its massive walls rising against the pale northern sky like an iron mountain. The wind carried the faint hum of mana running through its barriers. I folded my arms, eyeing the structure from end to end.
"Well," I said slowly, "did they build this thing out of money?"
Alice’s eyebrow twitched—barely, but I caught it. Still, I wasn’t done.
The fortress stretched endlessly, the outer walls engraved with glowing magic patterns that shimmered faintly in the frostlight.
"Wait a second," I pointed. "That magic circle over there—it’s the same type you use for demon-exclusive sniping, right? The one in your mansion?"
Her lips curved faintly, pride leaking through her composed facade. "You have a good eye. Yes, that’s correct."
Of course it was.
Magic circles of that caliber weren’t just expensive—they were ridiculous. The kind of enchantments that cost enough to bankrupt a small noble family ten times over. And here, they were placed along the walls at regular intervals like ornaments.
"Yeah, definitely something I could never afford," I muttered. "A minor noble like me wouldn’t even be able to pay for the paint."
"In national defense," she said, glancing at me from the corner of her eye, "thrift is a luxury."
A very Northern answer. Cold, efficient, and utterly confident.
We stepped through the gates, the air within the fortress thick with mana and tension. Beyond the walls, the frozen plains spread out to the horizon—where dark figures moved, faint but unmistakable.
"By the way," I asked, lowering my voice, "what do you plan to do with them?"
Beneath us, at the far edge of the defensive line, a group of demons prowled—restless shadows shifting in the frost.
"They’re just small fries," Alice replied, her tone light but her gaze sharp. "We’ll face them head-on. Crush them before they can gather momentum."
"Easier said than done," I murmured.
Because among that group, some stood out even from a distance. Their horns were longer and sharper, curving upward like blades. Wings of scaled membrane flexed in the cold air, faint sparks of fire trailing from their movements.
The Ravarn tribe.
Even among mixed-blood demons, they were the apex predators—rumored to carry traces of dragon blood in their veins.
Their very presence distorted the air. As one of them unfurled its wings, a violent gust whipped across the frozen field, scattering frost like shards of glass.
"Small fries, huh..." I muttered, squinting up at the creature. "You really have a different definition of that word."
Alice only smiled, her expression calm and almost teasing. "You’ll get used to it."
I wasn’t sure if that was a promise—or a warning.
"Why?" she asked, tilting her head. "Are you scared?"
Scared? What an unpleasant word.
"I’m just... weighing the pros and cons," I replied, my tone dry.
The Ravarn tribe wasn’t just strong—they were absurd. Fast, intelligent, and nearly immune to fire and cold. Their kind had slaughtered entire battalions before anyone could even signal retreat.
Fighting them head-on was suicide. Especially out here, on this godforsaken tundra where every breath burned like ice.
They were, in game terms, mini-bosses—direct subordinates of the final boss. Their difficulty curve was a cruel joke.
So I had to ask, even though I knew what she’d say.
"Wouldn’t it be better to just hold out in the fortress?"
Alice turned her gaze toward the distant mountains, her hair catching the pale northern light. When she spoke, her tone was sharp enough to cut through the cold air.
"What a foolish question. Isn’t that land they’ve occupied part of the Solhaven Empire?"
Her voice carried a quiet fury. Not the kind that burned hot—but the kind that froze solid, like steel tempered in snow.
Of course. To her, this wasn’t just about strategy. It was about pride.
Even if those creatures were monsters that could level fortresses, even if standing against them meant certain death—she would fight.
And knowing her, I would have no choice but to stand beside her.
"Right," I sighed, glancing again at the Ravarn circling overhead. "Glorious land of the Solhaven Empire. What could possibly go wrong?"
A faint chuckle escaped Alice’s lips. "You’ll find out soon enough."
Yeah. Somehow, I already knew I would.
Alice’s chuckle lingered in the cold air, thin as frost smoke, before fading into the endless expanse of white.
I exhaled, watching my breath swirl like mist. "You know, when people say ’you’ll find out soon enough,’ it’s usually a bad sign."
Her lips curved ever so slightly. "You’re too pessimistic."
"I call it experience," I said. "The last time someone said that to me, I almost lost my life."
"Ohh? Really?"
She asked me out curiosity, thinking that I was joking but I was not.
Looting that black marke auction house with my master really put me in position where I would loose my life.
Bad times....I don’t want to think about it.
"Hmm," I muttered. "Really."
Alice gave me that look—the one that said she was amused but trying not to show it. The kind of look nobles practiced in mirrors. "You do have a knack for finding trouble wherever you go."
I glanced up at the sky, where faint black dots—demons—drifted like ink across snow. "No," I said quietly. "Trouble finds you. I just happen to be within range."
That earned me a small laugh. A real one this time, soft but clear. "Then it’s fortunate for me, isn’t it? To have someone willing to share the danger."
"I don’t recall volunteering," I said, though I didn’t step back.
Alice turned, her cape fluttering in the icy wind. "That’s the thing about you," she said. "You always complain, but you never walk away."
"I’m not walking away because it’s freezing," I shot back. "My legs have frozen solid Lady Alice."
"Excuses," she said, her smile deepening. "You’d still follow me even if it wasn’t cold."
...She wasn’t wrong.
A silence settled between us again—heavy, but not uncomfortable. The kind that came before a storm.
Alice’s gaze lingered on the distant ridgeline, where the dark silhouettes of demons shifted beneath the crimson sky.
"I have no intention of letting any demon live," she said coldly.
Her voice, though soft, carried a force that chilled the air. It wasn’t merely anger—it was conviction, carved deep by years of northern bloodshed.
...Alice was perfect in every noble sense—refined, intelligent, composed. But when it came to demons, all that grace turned into a quiet, burning fury.
It was understandable. Anyone born and raised in the North—where demon incursions were as common as winter storms—would have the same hatred ingrained in their bones.
"Well, we’re neither nobles nor servants right now," I muttered under my breath. "Orders are orders."
Still, a small part of me hoped reason might prevail. After all, the famed Duke of Draken was here—known across the empire as The War Hawk, a man of cunning and strategy. Surely, he wouldn’t charge blindly into a fight just because his daughter demanded it.
Surely.
Then the horn sounded.
A deep, thunderous BRUUM rolled across the fortress, followed by the pounding rhythm of war drums.
The signal to advance.
’...Ah. My prediction was wrong.’
Blood doesn’t lie, after all.
When it came to demons, both father and daughter lost all sense of restraint.
Alice turned on her heel, eyes blazing with purpose. "The trumpet of advance has sounded. Are you planning to stay here?"
"How could I?" I sighed, half amused, half exasperated. "Who wouldn’t follow their knight?"
And then, from the center of the stronghold, a commanding voice boomed:
"All forces—follow me!"
It was Duke Draken himself.
The soldiers erupted into motion like a flood breaking through a dam. Shields locked, banners raised high, their roars filled the frosted air.
Though it was said an Aura Knight could outpace a galloping horse for short distances, the Duke moved with terrifying speed—his blade gleaming like lightning as he led the charge through the open gates.
Straight toward the heart of the demon camp.
Abandoning the fortress’s advantage, he plunged into battle as if the very idea of defense were an insult.
Why? For honor? For pride? Or perhaps simply because the blood of the North refused to yield?
Whatever the reason, every theory I had crumbled the moment I saw it.
The clash of steel, the war cries, the thunder of hooves—all of it collided in a single, breathtaking moment.
I stood there, staring at the whirlwind of battle, unable to tear my eyes away.
"...So this is war," I murmured, my voice barely audible over the chaos.
And for the first time, I understood—this was what it meant to be born in the North.
----
Author Note:
Thank you for reading the Chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.
It’s my second novel so if there’s any kind of mistakes you find in the novel related to grammar please tell me and I’ll edit it as soon as possible.