30 Years Have Passed Since the Prologue

The aurora comes to a halt. The shimmering red lights split evenly apart. Along that line, the severed queen appeared below.

Only a single offensive. That alone caused everyone to forget to breathe.

Ivan raised his ringing arm and looked straight ahead. He took a deep breath and calmed his body momentarily.

He reached it. The fragment of Maximilian from that era.

“That power.”

The split queen growled ominously.

“It belongs to you.”

With a viscous slime, her body clung to him. The halted sky began to flow again, and a more vivid, deep crimson aurora spread across the atmosphere.

“Elpheira. Do it.”

Elpheira hurriedly ran towards the milestone. Oswald, Rundis, and Lucia followed closely behind her.

Even in the midst of that, the queen was gazing only at Ivan.

Doubts about using her divine power. Or, the anger about having her power seized…

No.

“It’s fear, isn’t it?”

The queen’s expression changed at Ivan’s words. The fiery emotion pierced her skin like arrows. The level of killing intent manifested so palpably, it could even wound a superhuman.

“You. How dare you… You should be more careful with your tongue.”

“Should I commit suicide if I’m polite?”

“…What?”

“Would you kill yourself if I showed you courtesy? If so, it might be worth considering.”

If this situation could end without fighting, it would be more efficient that way.

Ivan was a person of remarkable self-control. But all the ‘strong’ in this world were beings devoid of reason and rationality.

The queen, insulted by his words and considering them a provocation, gasped and reached out.

“I will not kill you—!!”

-Kwaaaang—!!

With her hand raised, magic erupted. An aerial explosion, fueled by her formidable mana, possessed shock power comparable to a dwarf’s explosive device despite being a low-level spell.

He recognized the attack alongside its premonition, but instead of dodging, Ivan redirected the force of the shock.

-Thuung—!

He absorbed the impact with his well-prepared arm. Yet, he couldn’t avoid being knocked back. As he managed his remaining energy, the terrain around him rapidly changed.

In an instant, he traversed a space of several dozen meters. Glancing to confirm the landing point, he quickly turned his body.

-Thud.

His coat fluttered from the impact. Ivan watched the queen approaching him.

Good. He had lured her. Now, he just needed to buy time until the milestone was neutralized.

Even the best attack he could make wouldn’t finish her off. She was a being whose very existence defied life itself. As long as the milestone operated, that entity would be resurrected endlessly.

A vessel made from the endless flesh and blood of deep-sea magical beasts, mixed with the racial potential of the elves. And within it, divine essence poured in and sealed with the consciousness of the queen. A god created from such a process. There was no way to kill her through conventional means.

But that’s okay.

I also cannot be killed through conventional means.

I do not approach battle in a conventional manner.

That’s how I’ve been trained. Ivan watched the queen charging at him with cold, sunk eyes.

“I will not kill you. You will have immortality. You will be trapped in eternal frost, witnessing the demise of your race while being devoured by maggots every single moment…!!”

– Kwaaaang—!!

Countless spells exploded in a chain reaction. Electric currents raced across the skin, leaving long burn marks, while fireballs tore through the abdomen and incinerated chunks of internal organs.

Telekinetic forces twisted the nerves and muscles, freezing the flesh before it could fall to the awful frost.

However.

Gripping the axe and steadying his breath.

Once more.

– Jjeo-eo-eo-eong—!!

The aurora splits. The whirlpool scatters. The Queen’s body is torn in half.

The divine powers that had briefly scattered among the broken fragments melted back into the bloodstream with Ivan’s breath.

Thud, thud.

No matter what injuries were inflicted, the pulsing wouldn’t stop. After enduring a gruesome curse, violence, magic, and destruction that could have killed an ordinary person a dozen times over. It continued relentlessly.

Indeed, divine power, regardless of its directionality, adhered to a single principle.

Creation.

That is why even the priests of any malevolent god can use basic recovery spells. After all, divine power was a fragment of the force that created life.

Thus, regardless of which god’s divine power it was, it is only natural to nurture new flesh for a mere mortal and breathe strength back into their creaky joints.

Therefore. Pain is an illusion.

“Gulp!!”

He spat out the blood of the dead. As horrifying pain, like showering in potion jars, tore through him, he still stood up with widened eyes.

Pain is a signal of crisis that living beings sense. It can be considered a sort of early warning system for recognizing anomalies within the body.

Therefore, the current injuries cannot truly be considered a ‘crisis.’

Pain is an illusion. It is phantom pain felt by a mortal body that handles this unusual power called divine power.

It could be called delusion. It could be called self-hypnosis. But if only he could swing the axe one more time.

– Jjeo-eo-eoek—!!

“It’s useless!! I know your insignificant plan. While you buy time, those inexperienced rabble intend to lay their hands on Her Majesty’s filter!!”

Thus, their fight can no longer be called a struggle.

It is a form of mutual devouring, tearing into each other to fill their own bellies.

Ivan, filling himself with the divine power that oozed from the Queen’s torn body with each step he took, and the Queen, ultimately recovering and tearing into Ivan’s body to refill her own divine power, fought it out.

“Do you think it will work? Do you believe those maggots can accomplish anything? Her Majesty’s time was eternal, and Her Majestic seasons are everlasting!”

“Am I fearful, unable to turn my back on you?”

“What?!”

Ivan, once again swinging his axe downward, spoke.

“I want to interfere right now, and I want to stop my companions. But aren’t you truly afraid to turn your back on me?”

“How dare!!”

“Go ahead. If you can, turn back and go to my party. If you’re not scared, then act.”

However, the Queen could not turn back. She could only glare at Ivan with an empty expression.

Indeed.

Ivan Petrovich Yeremov had experienced thirty winters. During that time, what he excelled at the most were ambushes, tracking, and hunting.

He had survived by consuming those who turned their backs on him. The Cleanup Unit. The lives of all those men crumbled outside were the same as his.

So, do not turn back. Do not take your eyes off me.

Repeating that to himself, Ivan raised his axe.

– Zzeo-eok—!!

Divine power bursts forth, gnawing at the mixture of intense anger and fear.

Dozens of attacks exchange, deforming and devouring each other’s bodies, refilling indefinitely—like the cyclical change of seasons, as if they have become each other’s mirror images.

And at some moment.

– Wuttuk.

“Ha!!”

As Ivan’s body came to a stop, the Queen shouted loudly. The body may withstand divine power, but the weapon could not.

Axes, daggers, handguns—none could escape. They crumbled due to excessive exposure to divine power.

The Queen laughed as she shouted.

“What will you use to perform tricks now? Will you charge at me like a beast with both hands? Look. What can you do alone? You stand before eternal winter!!”

The laughter of the victor echoed. Close-quarter combat, where flesh collides with flesh, is challenging. In this situation, where they fill flesh with divine power, one instinctively knows the outcome when their skin overlaps.

They intertwine.

Flesh mixes. From a lexical perspective, Ivan is not much different from the Queen. Drawing on the same divine power to recover, bulking up flesh, delivering strikes in this unfolding scenario.

The only difference lies in the will. That was the only distinction.

“Come. Embrace her. I will grant you eternal life.”

Despite her taunting words, Ivan merely stood still and glared, not moving closer.

The Queen also refrained from approaching Ivan. It could be due to instinctive fear, or perhaps she had other ways to secure a more perfect victory.

It was likely the latter. The Queen confidently thought.

In any case, with resistance eliminated, even bombarding him with magic would leave him drained. Once he is completely exhausted and rendered powerless, she could take her time, starting from this island.

To cover this world with eternal winter, endlessly devouring the flesh of the living.

She would be reborn as the true god of this mortal world and ascend to the heavens once more.

“If you refuse Her favor, so be it. You, the beast standing alone. You will die alone. Fulfill your desires.”

The Queen extended her hand. Auroras flowed, and magical power began to concentrate.

Ivan smiled bitterly as he looked at the shattered axe handle.

Did he buy enough time? It was hard to gauge how long they had fought.

But well, if Veolgrin was thinking, he would help those kids. Everyone has a predetermined role, and it would be best to consider this his last role.

Thinking that, he gazed at the gathering magic.

In fragmented time, slowly warped space, beneath the undulating red aurora. In this still life where the candle and candle are superimposed.

– Piiing—.

The line of fire detection sparked.

– Piiiiiiiing—!!

Ivan quickly twisted his head, reaching out towards the trajectory caught by the fire detection. With a thud, something heavy was grasped in his hand.

A Krasilov-style military sword.

“Dmitri….”

A small military insignia was engraved. Major Dmitri Cherkatov. The marking indicating his last rank, a dot meant to signify Lieutenant Colonel, was scratched out.

Below, from the spire he stood upon, a familiar laughter echoed from far below, transcending this halted time. It was a voice he recognized.

“The Cleanup Unit is an army even when standing alone!!”

Each person’s training represents everyone.

Ivan lifted his head.

Dozens of lines of warning shot through his body. Whizzing, whoosh, some were too large, too small, too fast, and too slow, but all pointed in one direction.

Dozens of weapons aimed towards him. Their meaning and will could be read.

From axe blades, long swords, sabers, to daggers and spears.

– Pervabervabuk—!!

Countless weapons were thrust into the ground, forming a circle around him. His eyes widened, and dust from the broken spire spread around.

Standing among them, Ivan quietly lifted his head.

“I once called this scenery my hometown. Do you remember, Jhon?”

A low voice penetrated his ears.

The voice of a swordsman, claiming to be the strongest elf even after losing one eye and one arm to the Seven Warlords.

“At that time, I told you I would name this sentiment a memory.”

In the winter of the snowy coniferous forest, amidst a battlefield filled with numerous weapons, using everything within reach, replicating all the techniques he remembered, the essence of that time blends into memories that make up his entire life.

So.

“No mortal can live forever, but memories. Those whom you mourn will share eternity with you. Therefore—”

Bear eternity.

With those words, the swordsman threw his long sword.

Whizzing, a line of warning like never seen before screamed.

However, with developed lines of warning, all projection weapons become useless against a superhuman. No matter how intense the premonition, one can certainly evade, counter, and grasp.

– Quack—!!

The flying longsword seemed to move slowly. Ivan’s left hand swept across the longsword’s long blade and finally stopped the strike, grasping it firmly.

And he let that momentum flow, pouring his divine power.

Like the strike of Edelplat, infused with his power, seamlessly passing down martial arts through generations.

– Zzzeeeeng—!!

In the stilled time, Ivan swung his sword, struck down with an axe, thrust a spear, and plunged a dagger into the fray.

“Move 1.2mm to the right. Then 3mm at 75 degrees. Go.”

Elpheira poured out her mana, sweating profusely. She could hear her father’s voice echoing in her ears.

Kuuung…. The sound of a milestone shaking the ground resounded. Faintly outside, the cries of fighting comrades could be heard.

While holding back the countless magical beasts surging from all sides, not a single one was allowed to reach Elpheira.

The scream of Oswald was heard. It seemed a monster had covered his body. Over that, a sharp gunshot rang out. Rundis ran over, shooting while pushing the monster off with his shoulder.

Lucia ran around, plunging her dagger into the monsters’ necks and quickly pulling it out again. She was drinking in the blood of the magical beasts, her eyes glowing red.

And she, while still with her eyes closed, looked down upon them all from the sky.

Her field of vision widened. Despite her body breaking, she saw Ivan fighting.

The view widened again. Many elves were staring vacantly at the aurora or the towering giant tree.

The view expands again. Kalion comes into sight at a glance.

The twelve milestones are interconnected by a web of mana… No. The flow of celestial forces is visible.

The view expands again.

Under the sea lies the submerged land. Traces of the ancient Kalion continent can be seen…

The black universe and the deep blue ocean create a stark contrast, while the sun rises again, completing its half-circle.

And atop her hand, her father’s warm hand overlaps.

“I’m sorry, Elpheira.”

“Yes…?”

“You were my final puzzle. My last piece on this game board, to finally qualify to gaze upon the grasp of power. I was using you.”

The laughter in her father’s voice fades away. It feels unlike him, and Elpheira suddenly feels sorrowful.

“Do not forgive me. Live your life now. Whatever you achieve, you are a child who can make it happen. And if I may speak with a bit of regret…”

Her father murmured in a voice barely audible.

“I loved you, my daughter.”

The warmth that enveloped her hand disappeared. Lastly, a gentle breeze scattered her hair, as if caressing it.

Elpheira hurriedly lifted her head.

“Ah, Father…! No… Dad…!”

“Though winter has lasted for an eternity…”

Now Veolgrin’s voice no longer aimed at Elpheira. He was declaring towards somewhere in the sky.

“The sun rises and sets. The moon rises and sets, and rain and wind, clouds swirl and scatter. This world orbits that distant sun, year after year.”

Thus, no season can last forever.

“If the eternal winter has passed, spring is now approaching.”

If it is the season of renewal, it will once again be an eternity.

Moreover, if we were to name that season…

“It is the spring of humanity.”

The winter of the gods comes to an end. All game boards crumbled. The gods descended to the ground, absorbing the scattered fragments in hand, stirring them around. Now, they distinguish this realm from the world of the gods.

Only one thing.

To kill the winter.

– Click.

As Elpheira touched the last circuit—

*

In the snowy Ydranhill, an elf suddenly shifted his gaze to the sky.

A pure white snowflake fell lightly onto his fingertip.

As he gazed at the snow that did not melt even moments later, the elf pressed down on his misty eyes and looked back again.

The snowflake, which was neither cold nor melting, gradually transformed into a petal, fluttering on his hand.

“Petal…?”

Far away, the eastern horizon began to glow.

As the elf knelt and shed tears, he stared blankly at the flower showering down in the eastern Ydranhill.

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