Callian walked.
And killed.
And walked again.
The process repeated itself like a dull, endless cycle.
Every monster that entered his line of sight didn't last more than a few seconds. Whether they were massive frostwolves, towering ice golems, or swarms of lesser beasts hiding beneath the snow, none of them posed a challenge.
None of them made him pause.
His sword cut through them as easily as breathing.
Blood stained the snow in splashes of red, fading quickly into the endless white.
The northern plains were supposed to be dangerous.
To most people, they were.
But for Callian?
This was nothing more than a tedious chore.
He sighed, adjusting the strap of his coat. His breath came out in a misty huff, the cold air biting at his skin—not that he minded.
The only thing truly annoying about all this was the time it was taking.
Violet was still waiting for him back at the camp.
And Callian hated making his daughter wait.
His fingers twitched slightly, the urge to hurry up gnawing at him.
[ Quest Progress ]
Hunt monsters of the northern plains (1357/2000)
Hunt the Kings of the northern plains (1/10)
Still not enough.
His golden eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned the horizon. Where were the stronger ones?
If he wanted to speed things up, he needed to find—
Huh?
A shift in the wind.
A faint presence approaching from the east.
Callian stopped walking, tilting his head slightly.
Someone was coming.
He turned just as the figure emerged from the frost-covered trees.
A man.
Tall, dressed in dark winter robes embroidered with faint silver. His long silver hair was tied back loosely, and sharp crimson eyes studied Callian with quiet calculation.
Callian blinked.
Silver hair?
His mind immediately made the connection. Ashville.
So that's what the quest was referring to.
The Three Elders' Recognition.
He sighed inwardly.
Troublesome.
The man came to a slow stop a few paces away, his gaze flicking from Callian to the sheer number of corpses littering the snow around them.
He stared for a long moment.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"You're not an Ashville."
His voice was smooth, calm—completely unfazed by the sight of absolute carnage.
Callian exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. I know."
A pause.
The man raised a brow. "Then why are you here?"
Callian shrugged. "My daughter is."
Something shifted in the man's expression.
A flicker of surprise. Then something else.
Recognition.
"Violet."
Callian nodded.
"She's an Ashville," he said simply. "I'm just a commoner."
Silence.
The silver-haired man's gaze flickered again, landing on Callian's face, as if assessing him.
Then his eyes moved downward—to the sword still resting in Callian's grip.
Then to the mountain of dead monsters around them.
Then back to Callian himself.
The man's expression didn't change.
But there was something almost... dryly amused in his gaze now.
"...A commoner," he repeated slowly.
Callian nodded, completely serious.
Another pause.
The man exhaled lightly, glancing away as if he needed a moment to process this absurd situation.
Then, finally, he straightened. "Come with me."
Callian frowned slightly. "Where?"
"The frontline."
Callian tilted his head. "Why?"
The man didn't answer immediately. He just studied Callian for a moment before responding.
"Because I want to see how a 'commoner' fights."
Callian didn't particularly care about being tested.
But if this let him finish his quest faster, he didn't mind following along.
So he walked.
And as usual, people whispered.
The closer they got to the frontline camp, the more knights and soldiers appeared, their gazes snapping toward Callian as he passed.
Some of them stiffened.
Some of them froze completely.
Some whispered among themselves, confusion and tension thick in the air.
Callian sighed internally.
What now?
It wasn't like he was doing anything.
He was just walking.
But then—he glanced at his status screen and immediately understood.
[ Monarch's Aura ]
Full Effect Active.
Passive Dignity Applied.
Your coat flows majestically.
Ah.
Right.
Violet wasn't around.
So there was nothing to distract or suppress his aura.
Which meant his coat was doing that stupid flowy thing again.
He exhaled through his nose.
Annoying.
Normally, he was too busy spoiling Violet to even notice.
But now that he was alone, his presence was fully unfiltered—and it terrified most people.
The soldiers around them were clearly struggling to keep their composure.
Some had gone pale, eyes darting away the moment Callian's golden gaze flicked in their direction.
Even the seasoned knights were holding their breath, hands gripping their weapons tightly like they were standing in front of a legendary figure.
Callian sighed again.
This was why he avoided large groups.
Most people reacted like this around him.
But the silver-haired man beside him?
Completely unaffected.
He walked at a calm, steady pace, not even blinking at the oppressive pressure that sent everyone else into a silent panic.
That was interesting.
Callian glanced at him curiously. "You're not tense."
The man raised a brow. "Should I be?"
"...Most people are."
"Hm." The man's expression didn't change. "I suppose that means I'm not 'most people'."
Callian let out a quiet chuckle. Fair enough.
The two of them continued walking, eventually reaching the outer defenses of the frontline.
Beyond the wooden barricades, monsters were already gathering in the distance.
A full-blown attack was forming.
The silver-haired man finally stopped, gesturing toward the battlefield. "Show me, then."
Callian stretched slightly, rolling his shoulders.
His golden eyes gleamed.
"Alright."
Then—he moved.
And the battlefield turned silent.
*****
Blood.
Flesh.
Ice.
A constant cycle of slaughter.
Callian moved like a specter across the battlefield. His sword sang through the air, cutting down monsters as easily as slicing through paper.
One step. A beast lunged. His blade flashed. A head fell.
Another step. A frost wyvern screeched, claws slashing toward him.
Callian ducked, rolled forward, and pierced straight through its throat.
It choked, wings spasming, before collapsing into the bloodstained snow.
[ Quest Progress ]
Hunt monsters of the northern plains (1987/2000)
Hunt the Kings of the northern plains (6/10)
Almost done.
His breath came out in misty clouds as he wiped his blade on a fallen beast's fur. He barely felt the cold. The biting winds of the northern plains were nothing compared to the frozen labyrinths he had once traversed in his past life.
These monsters were nothing either.
They were just in the way.
He had to finish quickly.
Violet was waiting for him.
His golden eyes flickered upward as a shadow loomed overhead.
Four massive figures.
Four Kings of the Northern Plains.
Towering, ancient beasts, each exuding a pressure that would send most knights staggering.
But Callian?
He simply sighed.
"Again?"
The Battle Against the Four Kings
The first to lunge was a colossal frostbear, its fur shimmering like diamonds under the weak sunlight. Its claws could tear through steel, its growl sent the earth trembling.
Callian sidestepped.
His coat fluttered.
Then—he slashed.
A single, clean stroke.
The bear's massive head separated from its body.
Before the corpse even hit the ground, Callian was already moving.
The second king came next—an ice basilisk, its serpentine body twisting as it struck like a spear.
Callian grabbed its fangs mid-air, the sharp edges digging into his gloves.
With a casual twist, he snapped its jaw.
The basilisk's eyes went wide.
Then—his sword pierced straight through its skull.
Two down.
The third and fourth kings lunged at the same time.
A massive frost lion and an ancient glacier mammoth.
Both moving in sync, their roars shaking the battlefield.
Callian exhaled.
He tapped his foot lightly—and vanished.
The next second, he reappeared behind them.
His sword had already cut through the lion's throat and the mammoth's legs.
The two collapsed at once.
Snow and blood filled the air.
Silence.
The Oldest Ashville Watches
From the edge of the battlefield, a man watched everything unfold.
A man with silver hair and calm crimson eyes.
Franz Ashville.
The oldest of the Ashville bloodline.
Yet, despite his age, he remained untouched by time.
A Transcendent.
His expression didn't change throughout the battle. His arms remained crossed, his face unreadable.
He watched as Callian single-handedly tore through monsters, one after another, his sword flashing through the cold air.
Even among the strongest warriors, this level of efficiency was unnatural.
Finally, Franz raised a hand.
"Stop."
Callian stopped immediately.
Not because of the command.
But because his quest counter reached 2000.
[ Quest Complete – Hunt monsters of the northern plains ]
New Quest Updated – Hunt the Ice Dragon (0/1)
Huh.
Callian tilted his head slightly before turning toward Franz.
The silver-haired man was already walking toward him.
Once close enough, Franz studied him carefully, his quiet gaze lingering on Callian's unruffled expression.
Then, he spoke in a voice as calm as the winter wind.
"You are a Transcendent."
It wasn't a question.
It was a statement.
Callian stared at him. "Not really?"
Franz's eyes flickered.
Then, without another word, he reached into his coat, pulled out a silver badge, and handed it over.
Callian blinked.
Franz simply turned, walking away.
His parting words were quiet, yet firm.
"Tell the main manor that Franz Ashville acknowledges Violet Ashville's contribution."
Callian stared at the badge in his hand.
Then at his quest window.
Then at the retreating figure of the legendary Ashville elder.
Finally, he sighed.
"Another hassle."
*****
The camp was quieter than he expected.
After spending two days here, Callian had grown used to the cold, the soft crunch of snow beneath his boots, and the distant murmurs of knights and soldiers.
His tent wasn't much, just a simple structure meant to block the wind. But Violet wasn't here. Which meant Callian had far too much free time.
And yet—his quest wasn't finished.
[ Quest Progress ]
Hunt the Ice Dragon (0/1)
Callian sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
He had been roaming the entire northern plains, killing anything that moved, and yet—nothing.
Not a single trace of an Ice Dragon.
If it weren't for the quest screen, he would've assumed someone made a mistake.
But it was there.
So somewhere out here, there was a dragon he needed to kill.
Which meant—he needed to find it.
And since wandering around clearly wasn't working…
He needed to ask.
Seeking Answers
Callian strode toward the main tent, pushing aside the thick fabric flap.
Inside, Franz Ashville sat by a fire, sipping something warm. He barely looked up when Callian entered.
Callian didn't waste time.
"Where's the Ice Dragon?"
Franz blinked.
Slowly.
Then—without any change in expression—he set his cup down and said, "Why?"
Callian gave him a blank look.
"…Because I need to hunt it."
Franz didn't react immediately. He just studied Callian for a long moment before finally speaking again.
"…The Guardian?" His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful. "You want to hunt the Guardian of the North?"
Callian frowned.
Guardian?
That was not what his quest window had called it.
"…Explain."
Franz exhaled, leaning back slightly.
"The Ice Dragon has lived here for centuries. Perhaps longer. It existed before the Ashville Duchy, before the first settlements, before the first warlords came to claim this land."
Callian remained silent, listening.
"It is an ancient being. One of the few creatures who do not see humans as enemies. Unlike the beasts you hunted, it does not attack without reason."
Callian raised an eyebrow. "And yet, my quest says to hunt it."
Franz's eyes sharpened slightly. "Your quest?"
A slip.
Callian exhaled and shrugged. "Call it an instinct."
Franz stared at him again, then finally sighed.
"The Ice Dragon resides in the Valley of the Frozen Sea. Far north of here. Few dare approach."
Callian nodded, making a mental note of the name. "Can I hunt it?"
The tent went silent.
For a moment, Callian thought Franz might say yes.
Instead, the silver-haired man just stared at him—then spoke in a completely flat voice.
"No."
Callian blinked.
"…Why?"
Franz closed his eyes for a moment, as if debating how to phrase it. Then, he simply said:
"Because I don't think you understand what you're asking."
Callian tilted his head. "A dragon is a dragon."
Franz let out a quiet laugh.
Not one of amusement.
"You don't understand. That's not a mere dragon. That's an Ancient Being. It is older than your ancestors, older than this land, older than Ashville itself."
Callian stayed silent.
Franz leaned forward slightly. "It is a guardian—not a beast to be slain."
A pause.
Then, Callian finally spoke.
"…Still, I have to go."
Franz sighed. Then, after a moment, he simply nodded.
"Then go."
Callian turned to leave.
Then—
"Callian."
He stopped, glancing back.
Franz's crimson eyes held an odd weight.
"If you seek the Ice Dragon, do not go as a hunter."
A pause.
"Go as a visitor."
Callian exhaled lightly.
Then he nodded—before stepping out into the cold.
The Valley of the Frozen Sea awaited.