Chapter 67 : The Frost Knight

I stared into the darkness, lips curled in a cold smile.

“Never sat right with me. Since when does some so-called legendary sword decide the duel of swordsmen?”

I laughed low and drew my blade.

Shhhng—

The pale steel gleamed, cutting a streak of light through the blackness.

“Save that crap. This sword Roetgel gave me is enough. Fine blades? I don’t need them.”

“Ashuban…!”

Shushruta clutched at my arm, still gripping my sleeve tight.

“If you do this, you’ll die for real!”

I smacked her hand away and pulled a dagger from my chest, tossing it to her.

Startled, she caught it clumsily.

“Take it. I’ve got business with that ice devil.”

“W–Why give this to me?!”

“I don’t need it anymore. You keep it.”

Her face trembled, as if she might burst into tears.

“Why? Why give it to me now? You wouldn’t even let me touch it before. You mean to die? You really want to die? Answer me!”

She tried to seize my arm again, trying to turn me away, but I shook her off mercilessly.

Then I glared at her and snapped.

“Idiot. I said I don’t need it. I never cared about some inheritance or legacy anyway. You take it.”

Ssshhh—

Even as I spoke, the chill deepened.

Frost was coming.

I had to get her out of here before he arrived.

He was after me alone. It was I who killed Baron Barankia, not Shushruta.

No need for her to get caught and die too.

“Ashuban, Ashuban…!”

I shoved her shoulder aside as she tried to hold me back, my voice cold.

“Take it and leave. Wasn’t that why you followed me all this time? For that dagger? Am I wrong?”

“Why… why speak so cruelly?”

“You got what you wanted. So cut the meaningless words and go.”

“Ashuban…”

Her eyes glistened as she looked at me, voice trembling.

But there was no time left.

“Not going? Shall I make you?”

I raised my hand as though to thump her skull and strode toward her.

She flinched back, face on the verge of tears.

“Get lost! Unless you want to die!”

She glared at me through tear-filled eyes, then turned and vanished into the darkness.

“…Don’t die. I’ll be waiting.”

Her last words drifted into my ears like a gentle snowfall.

Only then could I turn fully to the chill wind sweeping in from the dark.

I raised my sword, leveling the tip toward the void.

The blade quivered.

【Steady your heart. Will you lose before the fight even begins?】

“Hoo…”

I steadied my breathing, fixing my eyes on the trembling swordtip.

Gradually the quiver stilled, until it was wrapped in perfect stillness.

At this state, even falling raindrops would split in two upon it.

I shifted my focus forward.

As my gaze sharpened, the sword blurred and the darkness ahead resolved with clarity.

And he was already there.

Whoooom—

Through the snowstorm, a man emerged.

Thankfully, it was no pale demon of legend.

The gloom hid much, but the first thing that struck me was his ghostly, bloodless face.

He was younger than I expected—perhaps mid-thirties.

So young, and already one of the Eight Sword Masters? The thought stung with spite.

His features were sharp enough to cut if touched, like a statue carved from ice.

The face of a man who would never bend—stubborn to the bone.

For a royal knight, his attire was plain. His long hair, falling to his shoulders, glinted an uncanny blue, like frost clinging to it.

For a moment, our eyes locked.

Then I understood at once why he had felt less than human.

There was no trace of emotion in his eyes. They were nothing but slabs of ice.

He looked at me with complete indifference.

No joy, no anger, no curiosity—just emptiness.

Cold, lifeless eyes. A face incapable of blooming with any emotion.

It was like watching a statue gain life and move.

From that statue’s lips, a faint cloud of white breath escaped.

“Master. What do you think?”

I asked the Heavenly Demon about my first impression of Frost.

This man was counted among the greatest swordsmen alive.

How did he appear to that ancient eye?

【Hmm… Not bad.】

“Not bad?”

【He’s at the level of the Ten Great Masters.】

“That means strong as hell, right?”

【Depends on the comparison. Against you, yes.】

“And compared to you?”

The Heavenly Demon chuckled.

【Far beneath me. You’d compare a Master to the world’s number one?】

“…Show-off.”

But still, strong as hell.

I spat onto the ground with a curse.

“Shit.”

The spit froze white the instant it touched the earth. I sighed.

The closer he came, the colder the air became.

I could feel my limbs stiffening in the frost.

I gathered my inner qi to resist.

Good thing I had eaten that ginseng earlier—its warmth coursed through me, driving back the freezing air.

Frost finally spoke.

“Red-Eyed Demon. That is you?”

His voice was as icy as his appearance.

I casually picked up a few stones from the ground and nodded.

“And you’re the famed Frost Knight?”

“…Serkov Wintermire.”

“Knew it. Frost Knight himself.”

“…”

Expressionless, he stared at me in silence before finally speaking again.

Each word was like the crack of splitting ice.

“Red-Eyed Demon.”

“What now?”

“For the murder of Baron Lucas Barankia, I will pass judgment.”

“Go ahead, then.”

“Sentence: immediate execution.”

“Bit harsh, don’t you think.”

The Frost Knight handed down his verdict on his own authority.

His face didn’t move—only his mouth. The sight was chilling.

I suddenly wanted to see cracks form in that frozen mask.

I rolled the stones in my palm, baiting him with mockery.

“What, no appeals? No retrials?”

“There is no retrial.”

“Boring man.”

“Red-Eyed Demon. By royal command, I will take your head.”

I smirked.

“And if I refuse?”

“…Then I will enforce the sentence by force.”

“Do as you like, Frost Knight, my lord.”

I cackled, taunting him.

Still, not a flicker of change crossed his face.

I almost felt disappointed.

“…”

Frost simply watched me, then drew his sword.

Shhhng—

The metallic ring cut through the night.

A cold flash burst from the blade, and at once a fierce snowstorm whipped around us.

‘A snowstorm? Now?’

I winced against the wind, and in that blink the blade was already upon me.

Clang!

“Kh!”

I nearly lost my grip on my sword.

My palm tingled painfully.

Just one exchange told me everything.

This man was on a completely different level from anyone I’d faced before.

I knew instinctively.

No tricks would work here.

I dropped the stones from my hand without hesitation.

He came at me relentlessly.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

There was no room for diversions or deflections.

All I could do was desperately thrust my sword forward, blocking the blue steel slashing for me again and again.

Each clash sparked fire.

There was not a wasted motion in his technique, not a single excess.

And because of that, there was no opening at all.

It was the first time I’d faced someone without a single gap, and for a moment—I was shaken.

Because his swordplay had no wasted movements, the gaps between his strikes were vanishingly short.

In other words, his attacks came one after another in a relentless torrent, leaving no room for counterattack.

Kagagang!

I was barely holding on, forced into pure defense.

This won’t do.

I realized instinctively.

If I couldn’t seize the flow back, the only thing waiting for me was death.

Frost swung his sword in a great arc.

Clang!

The impact rattled my shoulders, sending a painful tremor down my arm.

I twisted my sword hard, knocking his blade aside, then jerked my head back just in time to avoid the follow-up slash aimed for my throat.

At the same instant, I thrust my left palm toward his chest.

Bang!

The shock burst out, and I used the rebound to flip back, planting my hand against the ground to somersault and gain distance.

Did it land?

No.

He stood unharmed.

For a moment he touched the spot where my palm had struck, then looked at me with that same calm.

“Dark magic?”

“Not even close.”

“It is dark magic.”

“…Then why ask?”

I muttered, annoyed, and switched my sword to my left hand.

My right hand—after holding the blade so long—kept clenching and unclenching.

Even with my qi circulating, it felt as though I were gripping ice.

The cold from his sword seeped through each clash, numbing my bones.

Without inner qi, my hand might have frozen solid already.

I grimaced and shook the lingering chill from my fingers.

Frost said blandly,

“Dark magic earns immediate execution.”

“What, now it’s a double immediate execution? Is that even legal?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted his sword.

The blade gleamed, blue as if carved from glacial ice.

Whoooom—

That blue blade was wrapped in an aura of the same color, and the cold deepened sharply.

Only then did I realize: this was one of Ophosis’s Nine Legendary Swords.

Its name was… Blue Frostblade, wasn’t it?

I tilted my head.

Didn’t look like much.

A bit cold, sure, enough to numb the fingers—but was that all?

I shook my hand again, brushing away the lingering frost, and sneered,

“So this is supposed to be something great? Doesn’t look like—”

Kiiiing!

The blue aura fully engulfed the blade and suddenly howled like a living thing.

Crack!

Frost slammed the shrieking sword into the ground.

The aura roared like fire, the sword itself screaming.

Kiiiing!

And from that point, everything around us began to freeze in blue.

Crack! Crk!

The earth froze over.

In the blink of an eye, the frost spread.

Crackle!

“—!”

When I realized it, my feet were already trapped, encased in ice up to the ankles.

Immediately Frost twisted the sword toward me and ripped it free of the earth.

Craaaash!

Along the sword’s arc, jagged shards of ice surged upward.

Each one stood as tall as a grown man.

A wave of blue ice spikes burst forward, rushing straight at me.

Kakakakakakang!

“…You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Haaah… haaaah…”

Blood streamed from my left arm as I glared at Frost.

I’d shattered the ice at my feet and thrown myself aside, but not fast enough.

My left arm had been skewered.

The cold seeped in through the wound, gnawing all the way to the bone. Damn thing.

Worse pain than any ice arrow from a deranged mage.

I summoned qi to force the chill out, but it wasn’t easy.

Staring at my arm, I muttered in disbelief,

“This… this is a damn magic sword.”

Frost, face impassive, said, “You dodged that.”

I scowled, “Are you mocking me?”

“I am not mocking you.”

“Then what?”

“…Admiration?”

“Save it, bastard.”

“…Understood.”

I drove qi through my arm, pushing out the frost, and fixed my glare back on him.

He stood there with sword in hand, staring, before asking,

“How old are you?”

“What’s it to you?”

“For one so young, your attainment is unusual.”

My brow twitched, veins rising on my forehead.

“This bastard’s been itching for a fight since the start…”

“It is not provocation.”

“You don’t look much older than me, so cut the crap.”

“I am older than I appear.”

We locked eyes in silence—like children arguing over who looked younger.

Frost asked again, “Can you fight further?”

How generous.

Waiting so I could patch myself up before resuming.

I pressed a few acupoints to stop the bleeding in my arm, forced the chill out, and nodded.

“Of course, you son of a bitch.”

His eyelid twitched.

“But why do you keep swearing?”

“Because I fucking feel like it.”

“….”

Hm. If I pushed just a little more, maybe I could crack that flawless marble face of his.

That was my one faint sliver of hope.

My left hand was useless.

He still hadn’t fought seriously.

And I couldn’t see the smallest opening.

To bite something off, you had to at least see the balls.

…The situation was utterly hopeless.

“Heh heh.”

And yet… Why was I laughing?

(End of Chapter)

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