LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 40 - Fate Begins to Stir (4)
Translator: Marctempest
Editor/Proofreader: TempWane
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Chapter 40: Fate Begins to Stir (4)
At the eastern edge, the Ice Mountain Range.
A place that had always been deserted was now filled with numerous figures.
Among them, one figure stood out, clad in pristine armor, and spoke.
“I will go alone from here.”
On the boundary dividing the frozen fields and the wooded terrain, Artan’s words caused a stir among the guards.
The vice-captain, Hiloze, objected.
“That is not acceptable! This place is a demonic realm!”
His eyes were filled with concern and unease.
“Even guarding you closely every second wouldn’t be enough, and you’re saying you’ll go alone?”
“Guarding closely every second, huh…”
Despite Hiloze’s earnest plea, the crown prince remained composed.
He stared into the void, as if recalling something.
“The royal guards must stay close to the royalty. Unless I’m retiring to my chambers or attending to private matters, they are usually always around.”
That was the custom of the royal guard.
Hiloze wore a puzzled expression at the seemingly irrelevant statement, as Artan continued in a low voice.
“…There was one time when my life hung by a thread. It was my first humiliation.”
A shattered carriage surfaced in his memory.
An indelible recollection engraved deeply within.
The sensation of plunging off a cliff still loomed vividly in his mind.
It was an ordeal unbecoming of noble royalty, but… thanks to it, he met a certain woman.
“Even then, I didn’t bring the royal guard. I was naive. That was about ten years ago.”
His voice carried a tinge of regret.
Artan finished his words with a bitter smile.
“So, I will go alone this time as well.”
“What…?”
Hiloze blinked blankly.
The flow and conclusion seemed entirely mismatched.
“Why does it end like that? Didn’t you just say you suffered and learned your lesson when you went alone?”
Although he hastily blurted out his objection, Artan only chuckled.
“I did learn. That’s why I’ve kept you all close ever since.”
“Then why…?”
“Because today, for the first time in ten years, I will stand as Artan Fricas, not the Crown Prince.”
For a moment, his gaze hardened with resolve.
Standing on the boundary, he turned to look at the royal guard.
“Bringing you along was an act of consideration. I’ve learned enough to not stop you from following me this far. But…”
The young prince, no longer accurately described as immature, gazed at the mountain range with awe.
“The being above this mountain… is my wish. However, it may also be a presence we dare not disturb. Humanity has already committed far too many sins.”
In ages long past, ignorant humans had committed a grave sin in the west.
A “calamity” was born, becoming the worst disaster in recorded history.
Many gods departed, and now it was uncertain if any gods still remained. But one thing was clear.
The “Winter’s Chief God” had long since departed.
“Whether it remembers me is doubtful, but one uninvited guest is enough.”
Thus, he was still uncertain.
Was Quellière truly a goddess?
If so, it meant she had returned.
Many questions arose, but he shook his head to dispel idle thoughts.
Ultimately, he would learn upon meeting her.
“But, Your Highness…”
Just as the unconvinced Hiloze was about to exclaim something, the prince made a proclamation.
“It is an imperial decree.”
“…!”
An imperial decree.
At those words, the atmosphere among the guards grew solemn.
The royal guards stiffened their expressions, standing at attention, while Hiloze widened his eyes.
Artan spoke.
“You are of no use anyway. Without the armor of spirits, humans cannot survive in a demonic realm. To do so, you’d need to become a hero from legend.”
“Y-Your Highness…!”
“The only way would have been to block my path entirely. Now that I’ve reached the Ice Mountain Range, it’s already too late.”
“Such…!”
Although Hiloze raised his voice, he internally conceded.
The prince’s words were true.
Indeed, His Highness had given them the opportunity to fulfill their duty as royal guards.
The failure lay in their inability to grasp his intent.
We have missed our chance.
“We should have acted sooner…”
There must have been signs long ago.
He regretted it deeply.
The royal guards stood frozen in indecision, while Artan lightly stepped across the boundary.
Into a land of unlivable, bitter cold.
An icy chill enveloped him.
“…Even with the armor of spirits, it’s this harsh.”
The enduring majesty of the unconquered mountain range was no illusion.
He didn’t even need to consider the possibility of the guards pursuing him.
“Phew…”
Even the armor wasn’t perfect.
Wearing it alone didn’t turn an ordinary human into a spirit or a hero.
Naturally, the wearer’s skills mattered, and Artan summoned his magic.
“Training was worth it.”
The armor of spirits gleamed under the magic, enhancing its elemental resistance.
It also stimulated his circulation, spreading warmth through his body.
He nodded in satisfaction.
The sturdier the equipment, the better.
While enduring the cold and frostbite, he climbed the mountain range for some time.
A deafening roar sounded as a boulder flew his way.
“!”
Thud!
He dodged just in time and narrowed his eyes.
Standing amidst a grove of withered trees was a monstrous being with the form of a monkey.
Its body was covered in thick fur, and its gaze burned with murderous intent. It looked entirely hostile.
There was no way it would let him pass peacefully, so he raised his sword.
“I never thought this would be easy.”
Muttering to himself, Artan charged forward.
A single leap.
It was swift, but the monster evaded it.
───!
However, Artan released his mana, disregarding inertia.
In an unrelenting charge, the monkey’s tail was caught.
Soon, an incredibly efficient swordsmanship devoid of unnecessary movements unfolded.
The monster’s head fell to the ground.
“Hmm.”
Artan, in his youth, once called a prodigy.
Despite his vast talents, he never neglected his training. It was to honor the teachings of a certain woman.
“I won’t wither as a greenhouse flower.”
Though it was uncertain whether he had escaped the realm of weeds to become a proper flower, his determination was unwavering.
As he brushed off the blood and prepared to ascend, he flinched.
“······.”
The same kind of monsters that he had just defeated were now glaring at him.
Their numbers reached dozens, and their fury was evident.
Artan silently gripped his sword.
He had prepared for this, but it would not be easy.
─Kyaaaak!
He swung his sword toward the rushing monsters.
.
.
Even after subduing them, he did not stop moving.
The snowfield of the snowy mountains was like a quagmire, pulling at his feet with every step.
Crimson droplets of blood dotted the white snow.
“Hah··· hah···.”
The Ice Mountain Range was truly a labyrinth.
It was home to monsters of all shapes and sizes, creatures he had never heard of before, most of which were far stronger than those found in the Empire.
Each one was fiercely aggressive.
They seemed determined to prevent anyone from climbing this place, as if their sole purpose was to cut off his breath.
He slashed, clawed, and pierced through them.
Though wounded and in pain, Artan did not stop.
He could not afford to stop.
Having come this far, there was no turning back, and his retreat had already been cut off.
“Hah··· huu······.”
His lips trembled.
A white breath escaped between them.
At this point, he could no longer deny it.
He was in danger.
He was standing at the threshold of death.
Fear surged within him, but he bit his lips to suppress it.
“···Nothing changes.”
Hadn’t he already resolved himself?
Despite knowing the risks, he had pressed forward with the sole desire to meet her.
The woman he hadn’t forgotten for a single day over the past ten years.
“My salvation···.”
The clatter of armor echoed.
The thunderous roars of the monsters surrounding him shook the heavens.
─────!
Cold blood sprayed into the air.
His teeth chattered from the cold, and the collisions of his blades were coarse.
All of it repeated in vain, like a pointless cycle.
“······.”
At some point, his vision became blurry.
It felt as though a fog had settled over his eyes.
Perhaps it was due to the ringing in his ears, but he could no longer hear the frantic beating of his heart.
Suddenly, he murmured to himself.
“···Was I lacking?”
Was this the limit of the talent he thought had been bestowed upon him by the heavens?
Had he been too hasty? Should he have spent more years honing his swordsmanship?
Or perhaps···.
“···Was my very desire itself wrong?”
The master of this uninhabitable land.
Was it arrogance for a mere human to admire her?
Artan gritted his teeth.
“No···.”
He could not collapse here.
This wasn’t the sight he had wanted to show her.
He had long abandoned his weak self.
That day, in front of the shattered carriage.
When he thought of the woman who had followed the dark path for his sake.
“I was certain then···.”
The slushy snow clung to his ankles.
He forced his heavy legs to move forward.
Through the dizziness in his mind, images of a boy, a woman, and the sensation of falling ceaselessly swirled.
How much time had passed?
When it became impossible to tell whether this was a dream or reality, his vision suddenly cleared.
“······!”
When he opened his eyes, squinting against the howling snowstorm.
For a moment, Artan forgot his pain and his words.
The Snowfield.
A boundless world of pure white.
He had arrived at the true labyrinth of the Far East.
A place where only four heroes in history had reached after enduring the trial of winter.
Perhaps due to the relief of having arrived.
His knees suddenly buckled with a thud.
“Where is she··· where is she···?”
Once his strength failed, he could no longer rise.
This was his limit.
As the last bit of warmth left his body, Artan’s dilating pupils scanned his surroundings.
Then, a noise reached his ears.
─────!
A deafening rumble that seemed to flip the ground over.
The tremendous impact shook his entire fallen body.
Something was approaching.
He thought with a frozen mind.
“Not human…”
Then, is it a monster?
But I have never seen a monster with such enormous footsteps to make this sound.
I strained to lift my head and peer through the snowstorm.
Eventually, a blurry silhouette came into view.
“…!”
Artan was once again rendered speechless.
His eyes widened in shock.
Goooooo—
A giant with pale skin, surpassing even a blue hue.
It was massive, to the point where its end was invisible.
Even with all his effort to look up, the snowstorm obscured its entirety.
An existence that overwhelmed even the greatest of monsters—truly a creature of legend.
Artan muttered in a daze.
“The goddess’s confidant…”
It was an understandable assumption.
And not entirely incorrect.
That frost giant was a masterpiece created by a Snow Maiden who poured years of magical energy into its making.
…An advanced ice spirit—Sasquatch.
*
The Snow Castle was tranquil.
As always, the atmosphere was serene, and even in Quellière’s absence, the Yeti and Frike entertained themselves well.
Today, it was livelier because Mishra had also stopped by.
“Shoo! Shoo! Do that thing! That thing!”
Actually, these visits weren’t so rare anymore.
Mishra’s appearances had significantly increased in recent years.
And by her dragon’s measure, “recent” meant several years.
A fearless Frike waved his hands in front of her.
“What are you talking about?”
“That! Breath… Brett? You know, the thing where you blow out ice!”
“Hmmm…”
She rested her chin on her hand, thought for a moment, then opened her mouth.
Kwa-da-da-da—White dragon breath burst forth.
“Kya-ha-ha-hat!”
The Frike was tossed around like a piece of paper caught in a hurricane.
Being an ice spirit immune to all cold elements, it seemed to be thoroughly enjoying itself.
“Hmmm…”
She looked at the creature with a sullen expression and wiped her mouth.
For someone like her—a Dragon King—a casual breath attack could be released even in human form.
She stared at her pale hand before lifting her gaze.
The towering—though just “tall” by her standards—ceiling of the lower level of the Snow Castle came into view.
“When will she return?”
Mishra refrained from venturing upstairs during Quellière’s absence.
The upper floors were primarily Quellière’s domain.
It was a space that should not be trespassed without permission.
“The continent…”
She had ventured to the continent again for some unknown reason.
Come to think of it, it had been a very long time since Mishra herself had left the Snowfield.
For thousands of years, she had remained here, upholding the command to guard the Snowfield.
Unless Quellière rescinded that order or issued a new one, it seemed she would continue to do so.
“…For what purpose?”
Why had she gone to the continent?
If her guess was correct, Quellière’s condition likely wasn’t normal.
Just as she was lost in thought, her sensory perception reacted.
“This is…!”
The Snowfield was under her jurisdiction.
To respond promptly, she had dispersed her energy throughout the area.
That energy transmitted a sensation to her.
Someone had reached the Snowfield.
An uninvited guest.
Mishra’s brow furrowed.
“No… wait a moment.”
Then she was surprised.
The intruder was human.
A frail species had ventured into the Snowfield?
How long had it been since such an occurrence?
As she jumped to her feet, something flew toward her.
“Shoo! One more time! Do it again!”
“…”
The impudent snowflake.
It seemed to have taken a liking to her breath attack and was now gleaming with excitement, as though it had found a new toy.
Looking at the Frike, Mishra opened her mouth.
She thought about showing it a proper breath attack—but just before release, she reduced its power.
“Kya-ha-hat!”
She was careful not to harm it.
After seeing the Frike land safely, she wasted no time and leapt toward the window.
It was time to carry out her duty.
“…There shouldn’t be any issue, though.”
From what she could sense, the Sasquatch was already heading in that direction.
How many humans could stand against a frost giant?
Still, there was always the possibility of the unexpected.
The sooner she acted, the better.
She was about to revert to her true form and rush forward when she thought of Quellière.
“She always preferred using a human form for some reason…”
She didn’t know the exact reason, but as a devoted subordinate, she felt it was her duty to honor such a dignified preference.
…At least, that’s how she justified it to herself, though truthfully, she just wanted to imitate her actions.
“There’s no issue.”
Being the White Silver Dragon King, she wouldn’t be late regardless.
With her silver hair billowing behind her, Mishra ran like an ordinary person.
Though her speed was far from ordinary.
*
Meanwhile, at the entrance to the Ice Mountain Range.
The atmosphere was grim where the Crown Prince had departed, with the royal guards troubled, and Hiloze biting his lip.
“…Should we go after him now?”
His eyes, weary from endless internal conflict, showed his turmoil.
No matter how much he thought about it, letting their lord cross the demonic realm alone was madness.
He was consumed by unease.
This could lead to an incident—no, a disaster.
The surrounding guards vehemently agreed.
“The Vice-Captain is right! We can’t just leave His Highness like this!”
“That’s correct. This is the demonic realm!”
“The demonic realm…”
He repeated the words.
That was the problem.
Even if they went, could they actually accomplish anything?
In this land, which was essentially humanity’s nemesis, ordinary humans without the armor of spirits were no better than mere insects.
That realization struck them painfully when they tried to pursue the Crown Prince after his departure.
“We should have stopped him back then…”
The best course of action was to stop it before it began.
Even if it was the emperor’s command, as a loyal servant, I should have sacrificed myself to restrain him.
Hiloze lamented.
If something were to happen to His Highness, who would take responsibility? No, it would be fortunate if it only ended in a minor mishap.
“What in the world should I do······.”
Was there really no way?
As he stood there, unable to act, the sound of footsteps echoed.
Step, step─
The regular rhythm of the footsteps.
A sound that seemed completely unperturbed caught Hiloze’s attention. He turned around, his eyes widening in shock.
“···?!”
A breathtakingly beautiful woman stood before him.
Her hair flowed like the glacial peaks of an icy mountain range.
It was such an unexpected encounter that the entire royal guard stood slack-jawed.
The first to regain his composure was Hiloze.
He felt a delayed sense of embarrassment.
How could he be so distracted by something so trivial when his master was in danger?
Cutting off his inner turmoil, he addressed the approaching woman.
“Who are you?”
“······.”
The woman halted.
Without answering, she gazed intently at him and the guards. Hiloze stepped forward, his tone growing firm.
“···Leave. This is a cursed land. It is not a place for a woman like you.”
“What are you?”
Ignoring his words, the woman asked.
Her tone was arrogant, yet somehow it felt natural to Hiloze.
Caught off guard, he answered.
“We are the Royal Guard.”
“···Royal Guard?”
“That’s right. We serve His Highness the Crown Prince.”
The woman, who had been silent for a moment, glanced around once more. Her expression shifted noticeably.
Her small lips parted.
“Did Artan go up there?”
“That’s right···.”
Hiloze found himself answering again, almost involuntarily.
Her tone was irresistible somehow······. Wait, what did she just say?
“How do you know His Highness’s name······?”
This was an isolated region far from the empire.
Deep in thought, the woman did not reply.
Instead, she muttered to herself.
“···Fool.”
“What? Are you talking about me?”
“No.”
Leaving the stunned Hiloze behind, Quellière proceeded toward the mountain range.
Her nonchalant demeanor left Hiloze slow to react.
“Wait. Stop! Don’t you know where this is? You’ll die if you go that way!”
The woman paid no heed to his shouts from behind.
With no other choice, Hiloze adjusted his armor and gave chase.
The guards followed their captain’s lead.
“Ugh, aagh! My hands···.”
“Cough, cough! I can’t breathe······.”
But the extreme climate was an insurmountable barrier.
The royal guards, unwelcome visitors to this land, were mercilessly driven back.
*
“···Damn it.”
Realizing his mistake, Artan shook his head.
The term “goddess” should not be invoked carelessly.
It was a taboo to speak of such transcendent beings, central to the myths of the continent, before they revealed themselves.
He gripped his arm tightly and slowly lifted himself up.
In that position, Artan cautiously looked up at the frost giant.
“Why··· why are you before me, loyal servant···?”
-······.
Despite the Crown Prince’s words, the frost giant remained silent.
As Artan, tense with anticipation, tried to question further, a voice descended from above.
-What a curious creature!
“···!”
No, it wasn’t a voice.
The sound resonated not in his ears but directly in his mind.
“Is this··· telepathy?”
It was his first time experiencing it, though he had read about it often in texts.
Wasn’t it something spirits were known to use······?
As he pondered, something caught his eye.
Floating gently down from the giant’s shoulder was a snowflake-like figure with a slender body.
“A spirit···?”
Though he had seen spirit fragments, this was his first time witnessing a full-fledged spirit.
To see such a rare entity up close.
As Artan stared blankly, the spirit, Frike, began to chatter.
-What is this? It looks kind of like Quelli, but it’s not wintry at all··· it doesn’t even sparkle······.
A spirit’s perspective was vastly different from that of a human.
Their aesthetic sense did not align with human standards, and they could see things invisible to human eyes.
After some consideration, Frike struck a pose of realization.
-Aha, aha! You’re a human!
Raising both hands triumphantly, Frike seemed delighted.
Artan, caught off guard, reacted to one particular name.
“Quelli?··· Quellière?”
-Yeah···? You know Quelli!?”
Both were surprised by the other’s words.
Frike flailed about, while Artan shouted urgently.
“I do! Not well, but··· I came here to meet her.”
-Mm-hm, mm-hm! You like Quelli, don’t you!
“···What?”
Frike’s sparkling eyes and comment left Artan visibly flustered.
He had never received such a direct remark.
As he tried to muster a response with resolve, Frike cut him off.
-Me too! Quelli is lovely! Everyone loves Quelli!
“······.”
Artan averted his gaze slightly.
The spirit’s emotions were refreshingly pure.
He knew he could never express himself like that.
More importantly, this spirit seemed to know her very well.
Swallowing hard, Artan asked.
“Quellière··· do you know who she really is··· or rather, what she truly is?”
A fundamental question.
It was the crux of the matter, and Artan felt tense.
Frike, in her innocence, delivered a bombshell response.
-Quelli is winter!··· No, maybe snow?
The spirit tilted her head innocently.
A spirit’s perception was different from a human’s, and in truth, it wasn’t entirely wrong.
The species known as “Snow Maiden” had never existed in this world.
Yet with her emergence, even her ornamental backstory had become reality, turning her into an unknowable being.
Even so, the most fitting term to describe Quellière was “Snow Maiden,” though even that was less known than vampires.
Only one person knew her existence.
“Winter···!”
Taking Frike’s words at face value, Artan was astonished yet convinced.
So, it was true.
“···At last.”
It felt as if the fog had lifted.
Understanding her identity brought him a sense of relief.
Then, a fierce snowstorm swept in.
Whoooosh─!
“Argh···!”
The biting cold stung like blades.
The forgotten pain resurfaced, making his skin crawl.
Yes, there was something he needed to do right now.
Hadn’t he been on the verge of death just moments ago?
Even the spirit armor could no longer protect him.
If this continues, he would undoubtedly become a corpse.
Fortunately, salvation arrived.
Just as Artan was about to ask Frike for help, the frost giant stirred.
─────!
Even that slight movement caused the ground to tremble.
Frike, observing the giant, spoke.
“Ah, it seems bored. Sasquatch is about to leave.”
It appeared spirits could even understand the psyche of giants.
As Artan processed this thought, Frike nonchalantly declared.
“Well then, goodbye, human! I’ll be off.”
“…What?”
A shocking statement.
While Artan questioned his ears, Frike floated lightly and disappeared into the snowstorm.
He didn’t even have time to stop it.
─────!
The giant, matching its colossal size, retreated with the speed of a raging storm.
There was no catching it.
The hope that had suddenly appeared vanished just as quickly.
“How could you just leave like that…”
At least help before leaving…
His despondent muttering echoed in the air.
His limbs, frozen like ice, were sluggish.
The Crown Prince collapsed again as strength left his body.
Was he always this pathetic?
He had thought such feelings were long forgotten.
While he was lost in despair, like so many times before, a clear, beautiful voice rang out.
“Idiot.”
“!”
A familiar voice.
It had been so long, but the sound of it was unmistakably familiar, chasing away his pain and making him turn sharply.
In that moment, the world stopped.
“…Ah.”
She was there.
A peerless beauty, someone who once saved him in his youth and guided him.
She, who was both his fire and ice, and an existence of a higher dimension.
…Quellière.
Artan felt as if he might cry.
“Finally, I’ve met you…”
It was a reunion nearly ten years in the making.
*
I frowned.
The problem lay entirely with the man collapsed in front of me.
Pressing a throbbing temple, I searched my memory.
“…”
Was there such an event in the original story?
What kind of sequence of streams led to this mess?
Artan Fricas.
Crown Prince of the Empire.
Known as the “New Star” and destined to become a legendary ruler in the scenario.
He was a key figure who was supposed to ensure the safety of the world.
Why was he here, dying?
And alone, at that.
Was he desperate to die?
“…Hah.”
There was a limit to foolishness.
It was ridiculous and infuriating.
Without hiding my emotions, I looked down at him.
A cold voice naturally slipped out.
“Stupid weed.”
Why not live comfortably in a greenhouse?