~Chapter 10~
. The Origin of Ice Rock
Ice Rock.
Now, the term refers to the entire fortress that holds back the flood of monsters, the Snow Worms, pouring out of the snowy mountains. But its original meaning was completely different.
Back when the continent was still divided into many small kingdoms—
To subdue the calamity of the snowy mountains, the kingdoms each dispatched their greatest heroes.
“Relations between the kingdoms weren’t always good, but a ‘calamity’ was a matter on a completely different level. Everyone agreed that cooperation was the right choice.”
The finest heroes of each nation gathered and formed an expeditionary force. That force was called “Ice Rock.”
Those who hold back the ice.
Siruela had been among them…
“And your ancestor, Elrios, was there as well.”
“How many generations back would that be?”
“Well? It’s been about 900 years already—why don’t you try counting?”
“…”
So far back that one can’t even begin to calculate the number of generations—
Elrios Spelder.
“He was a genius. Even among the sorcerers of the Mage Kingdom Tarvelos, he was extraordinary.”
At just over thirty years old, he had already reached the 5th Circle—recognized by all as the greatest mage of his era.
Mages of a similar age were still lingering at the 3rd Circle, known as “the realm of understanding.”
Elrios was expected to one day challenge the 8th Circle, “the realm of limits.”
His family opposed sending him to such a deadly campaign, but Elrios joined the expedition entirely of his own will.
“I couldn’t understand why.”
The humans Siruela had seen only ever acted for their own benefit.
The other heroes who joined Ice Rock had reasons one could at least accept.
Even if dressed up as altruism, in truth they were all calculating gains and losses.
Their own benefit.
The benefit of their family.
The benefit of their kingdom.
But to Siruela’s eyes, Elrios had nothing at all to gain.
“So I asked him why he joined the expedition. What do you think he said?”
He chuckled to himself, not even waiting for my answer before continuing.
“‘Just because,’ he said.”
What was so funny about that?
Siruela laughed by himself for a good while longer.
“Ah, sorry. You really don’t know much, do you?”
“Well, he’s practically a progenitor, and I’m the very last descendant.”
“What a shame. When you have time, go visit the library.”
“The library?”
“Ever wonder why there’s a library here of all places?”
Siruela grinned.
“Every book there belonged to Elrios.”
“…!”
“You might find stories of your family you never knew. Perhaps even why magic in this world has ended up in such a sorry state.”
That did stir my curiosity.
Not so much for the Spelder family’s tales—but for the magic of that era.
Perhaps it could explain why magic had become what it is today.
“I’ve rambled long enough. Back to the point.”
Siruela erased his smile.
“As you know, we… Ice Rock failed. Well, we succeeded, but the result was no better than failure. That’s why I built this fortress and have guarded it ever since.”
I nodded in the right places, though I hadn’t known.
Indeed, if Ice Rock had truly ended the calamity, there’d be no fortress left standing here today.
“I want to put an end to the calamity.”
Siruela spoke firmly.
“And you wouldn’t want to rot away here either, would you?”
“Of course not.”
My original plan had been to grow stronger here, then leave.
If I wanted to make a name for myself, exposure to people was essential.
After that, I would reveal the truth about Jerath Grim and defeat him, spreading the greatness of true magic far and wide.
But this wasn’t a bad alternative either.
Imagine emerging with the expedition after ending the calamity—
A descendant cleaning up the failure left behind by his ancestor.
No bard could resist writing songs about such a tale.
The calculation was simple.
“To do that, there’s something I must do first.”
“Name it.”
“I’ll take over the mage corps.”
“Take over?”
Siruela frowned.
“Do you mean to kill them? That won’t do. Every hand is needed if we’re to defeat the calamity.”
“I won’t kill them all.”
I raised a finger.
“Just one.”
Siruela didn’t ask who.
“Only one needs to die.”
We both already knew who.
“Permission granted.”
Siruela smiled, satisfied.
“How should I help you?”
The mage corps was in uproar.
“Captain! Will you let this go?!”
“At this rate, we’ll lose even more men!”
“He keeps preaching about willpower, but this is nothing but coercion!”
The veterans stormed up to Barnard, voicing their complaints.
“Hog? You mean that big oaf of a recruit?”
“Yes! That’s who he took!”
Barnard’s lips curled into a sly grin.
Siruela always preached respect for the soldiers’ will, letting them choose their unit.
Since the corps had split into two divisions, not a single man had ever switched sides.
But now? Someone had beaten up veterans and stolen away a soldier?
That was a blatant violation of discipline.
‘Perfect.’
Barnard rejoiced inwardly.
‘If I use this as leverage, I can poach more men, maybe even grab the new recruits…’
Hog had only one engraving.
And not even a useful spell.
Barnard himself only knew two spells he could engrave:
The flaming projectile <Fire Arrow> and the explosive <Fireball>.
At first, the success rate was poor, but after much practice on his men, he’d reached a level of consistency.
Thus, the mage corps was divided into two groups:
Those with fire magic engravings who could cast spells—
And those whose engravings failed or were unrelated, relegated to carrying shields and guarding the backline.
For someone like Hog, being a shield was the perfect role.
Losing him in exchange for more soldiers would be a net gain.
“Fine.”
Barnard stood, feigning reluctance before his men’s outcry.
“I’ll go lodge a complaint with the commander…”
“There’s no need.”
A new voice came from behind.
It was Esric, the fresh recruit who’d entered with Hog.
“You bastard! Do you know where you are?!”
“A combat-division brat with nerves of steel, huh?!”
“Silence.”
Barnard raised his hand, silencing the shouts.
“What do you mean, ‘no need’? Explain yourself.”
“Just that, Captain.”
Esric bowed politely.
“The commander sent me here.”
“The commander?”
“Yes. He ordered Hog and me to switch divisions.”
“Division choice is voluntary. That’s a rule set by the commander himself. He’s never once…”
“It was my choice as well.”
“…What?”
Barnard frowned, then scoffed.
“Why the change of heart? Didn’t like your quarters?”
“To be honest… no.”
Esric sighed and shrugged.
“I never imagined such shabby barracks. And bunk beds, of all things… I haven’t slept properly, worried it might collapse. And as for ‘combat division’… it’s just glorified guard duty! No rest, constant shifts… Had I known, I’d never have chosen it.”
His stream of complaints left Barnard and his men chuckling in disbelief.
“So I asked if I could trade with Hog, that oaf.”
“And the commander agreed?”
“Gladly.”
“Hard to believe.”
“You can confirm with the commander…”
“I don’t mean Siruela.”
Barnard narrowed his eyes at Esric.
“It’s you I don’t trust.”
“…Huh?”
Esric tilted his head, feigning confusion. But Barnard wasn’t swayed.
This was the one who had boldly chosen combat division.
Ronin had naturally followed his lead.
And Hog, who chose last, had only picked mage corps after hesitating for ages.
Clearly, Esric was the most influential among the recruits.
Why would someone like that switch sides now?
“Ahh… My apologies, Captain.”
Esric grinned sheepishly, playing the fool.
“Just give me one chance, please? Honestly, I’m better than Hog, am I not?”
“And what makes you better?”
“Well, I can still receive an engraving. Unlike Hog, I haven’t been marked yet. If you engrave me, the mage corps grows stronger, right?”
“One more won’t make much difference.”
“Maybe not just one.”
Esric slid between the men, leaning close to whisper.
“Engrave me, and I’ll lure Ronin too. If you succeed with us, it’ll be a great excuse to bring in the next batch of recruits. We can even use the Hog trade as precedent.”
“…Hm.”
A tempting proposal.
“With that, the combat division may become obsolete. Not just them… maybe even…”
Now Esric leaned right up to Barnard’s ear.
“…the commander himself could be replaced.”
Barnard bared his teeth in a grin.
‘Clever. Or perhaps cunning is the better word.’
Esric wore the same sly smile.
‘It’s as if he’s reading my mind aloud.’
Barnard was impressed.
None of his men had ever understood him this well.
‘Even if things don’t play out as he says, he’ll be useful to have around. No need to reject him.’
Barnard decided.
“Very well. I approve your transfer with Hog.”
“Captain?!”
“Why would you…?”
“It’s the commander’s order, and my decision as captain. No further objections.”
The grumbling men fell silent.
“Welcome to the mage corps, Esric.”
“Thank you for accepting me, Captain.”
“Tonight, we engrave you.”
Before he could change his mind.
Before Siruela or Esric’s scheme could interfere.
Once engraved, the matter would be sealed.
“Know this: sometimes engraving goes wrong. Men have lost their lives to it…”
Barnard chuckled darkly, hinting that Esric’s life was now in his hands.
“Best prepare yourself.”
So transparent.
Does he really think he holds my life in his grasp?
I smothered the laughter bubbling up inside and nodded.
“Understood.”
Prepare myself?
No—he’s the one who should be preparing.
You fake mage.
