Chapter 376: The Story After (8) [Side Story, Part 8]

“Y-you...” The White Serpent staggered as it forced its titanic body upright. It swallowed the scream building in its throat and somehow found the strength to speak. “You dare to say you will kill me, the one promised invariance from the dawn of all things...”

“Do you think I cannot?” Ketal asked it.

He smiled as he spoke, an easy, curved line as light as a shrug. The Serpent froze. In its eyes, where pride and arrogance had lived unchallenged since creation, something else settled. For the first time, the fear of its own death took shape.

Ketal leapt, and in a single breath, he stood atop the Serpent’s head. He clenched his fist. Aura gathered there, dense and bright and sharp, as if all the weight of the sky had chosen that point as its anchor.

The blow fell, and the sound that followed seemed to tear the very air apart. His fist crashed down onto the crown of the Serpent’s skull, driving its head deep into the earth. The ground split beneath the impact, and the Serpent’s massive body buckled before collapsing, its face buried in shattered stone and ice.

“

Kaagh! Kaaaagh!

” it screamed.

The sensation was like having its skull caved in and its mind crushed at the same time. It had never known such pain. In that raw, unfamiliar agony, its roar broke into ragged, high sounds that barely sounded like its own voice.

Ketal stepped down onto the back of its neck and pressed his heel there. He did not stamp. He simply leaned, and that alone was enough to hold the Serpent pinned.

“I did not kill you in the White Snowfield,” he said, “because it would have meant nothing.”

He spoke quietly, as if explaining a simple fact. He had possessed the authority to overwrite the world itself, even back then. If he had used that power, he could have killed the Serpent and any other monster wandering that frozen realm. However, he simply never saw the point.

“It would have been a pointless act,” he said. “So I chose not to bother.”

He looked down along the Serpent’s length, measuring its size with his eyes.

“To be honest, that part has not changed very much,” he continued. “Killing you now and then dealing with your corpse would be a truly troublesome task.”

The Serpent was enormous. When it stretched itself fully, it brushed the sky. Just moving such a carcass would cost time and patience. Disposing of it would be tedious in the extreme. Ketal’s annoyance at the thought only carried him so far, though.

“But I cannot say there is any reason I cannot kill you,” he said.

He smiled again. This time, the smile did not reach his eyes.

“Choose,” he said. “End your long life here, or go back Inside and rule your own domain again.”

The Serpent did not answer. It feared death. Yet to say that it would meekly retreat and seal itself away again was a humiliation its pride could barely imagine enduring. The war inside its heart left it frozen, too ashamed to submit, too afraid to defy. Ketal understood that feeling well enough.

“If you wish to die with that much pride,” he said, “then it is only right to grant you that wish.”

He raised his axe. Aura flared along the edge, the light gathering like an executioner’s verdict. Only then did the Serpent break.

“I yield!” it cried. “I yield. I will return to the White Snowfield!”

“You should have said that to begin with,” Ketal replied.

He lowered the axe, as if this had been the outcome he expected all along.

“Swear it,” he said. “Swear on your own authority. Swear that you will never again leave the White Snowfield, that you will spend all eternity within it.”

The serpent hesitated for a heartbeat. Then it bowed the front of its body as far as it could.

“I swear on the authority of invariance,” it said. “I will never again come forth into the Outside.”

“Then it is settled,” Ketal said. “Get out of my sight.”

The Serpent’s tongue flicked out before withdrawing again, as if it still wanted to speak. Something bitter hovered on the edge of its thoughts, something petty, some last poisonous curse meant to cling to a shred of dignity.

Yet, it did not dare. It lowered its length to the ground instead and began to move. Its vast body slid along the ravaged earth, carving deep gouges as it went. Slowly, steadily, the White Serpent crawled away, heading back toward the White Snowfield.

Ketal watched its retreating back for a few moments, then leapt into the air and flew toward the Tower Master.

“It is finished,” he said as he landed beside him. “It will never set foot in this world again.”

The Tower Master stared up at him with eye-flames that flickered like tired lanterns.

“You lied to me,” he said. “You told me that with my level of strength, I would have a chance even against the legendary monsters. There was not even the slightest possibility.”

“That is my fault,” Ketal answered. “I apologize. I did not intend to deceive you.”

Ketal’s smile turned rueful. In his judgement, those at the peak of the Hero-class should have been able to confront the White Snowfield’s monsters on roughly equal terms. That was what he believed when he spoke. However, judging from the result, he had miscalculated.

It seems the foreign nature of their authorities is more dominant than I thought,

he said inwardly. The absolute advantage of conceptual affinity revealed itself, and the gap it created proved far greater than he had ever assumed.

“Bayern said he managed to wound the legendary Rat,” the Tower Master replied. “I do not know if the difference lies in magic, in weapons, or in something else entirely.”

“We will have a chance to check in the near future,” Ketal said. “We can see for ourselves then.”

He slipped an arm under the Tower Master and helped him stand. The lich stiffened slightly in surprise.

“A chance to check,” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“I received a request,” Ketal said. He rubbed his chin as if the thought still bothered him. “I was not particularly enthusiastic, but I have received quite a bit of help, so I accepted. You will find out soon enough. If you wish to be involved, simply say so.”

“Explain it now,” the Tower Master said. “I am too curious for my own good.”

Ketal obliged. When he finished, the Tower Master nearly lost his grip on Ketal’s hand.

“The King of the North,” Ketal said. “The king of the barbarians in the Outside, Bayern. He says he wishes to challenge the White Snowfield.”

***

Wind screamed across the ice, moving like a living thing that carried not only cold but malice. The breath of the land itself seemed eager to strip flesh from bone and turn lungs into frozen stone.

Ketal exhaled as he stood once more in the White Snowfield, and this time he was not alone. Behind him hovered the Tower Master, his robes snapping in the howling gale, and beside him stood the Elder Dragon Ignisia in human form, her hair whipping around her like restless flame.

“So this is the White Snowfield,” she said, letting out a low whistle.

“Remarkable,” the Tower Master said.

“Are you all right, Tower Master?” Ketal asked him. “It has not been long since you fought the Serpent.”

“I cannot waste the opportunity to explore the Demon Realm,” he replied.

The last time Ketal had returned here, the Tower Master had been unconscious after being dealt with by the Primarch. Later, when he heard that Helia, the Sun God’s Saintess, had walked the White Snowfield and returned with knowledge, he had almost clawed the floor in regret.

This was a chance to investigate the Demon Realm’s border under relatively safe conditions. He had no intention of letting it slip by.

“It is cold,” Ignisia said. Her breath fogged the air.

She was the Red Dragon. Her very existence contained the essence of flame. From the moment of her birth, she had never once known what it meant to shiver. Heat and fire were as natural to her as breathing. Yet here, in the White Snowfield, she felt cold for the first time.

“This is not simple chill,” she said. “The wind itself feels hostile.”

“From here on, follow my instructions closely,” Ketal said. “If something happens, I cannot promise I will be able to help you.”

“I understand,” Ignisia said.

“I understand as well,” the Tower Master added.

“Then there is you,” Ketal said, turning his head.

The two of them were not his only companions. Bayern, King of the North, the man recognized as the ruler of the barbarians of the Outside, nodded once.

“I am ready,” he said.

“In that case, let’s get going,” Ketal said.

They advanced into the White Snowfield. Monsters came at them from time to time, some from beneath the snow, some from the howling sky, some rising like shadows from broken ice. The land itself tried to kill them with sudden storms and shifting glaciers.

Together, they met each threat and pushed forward. Eventually, they reached their destination. The Tower Master drew in a slow breath.

“This is... different,” he said.

Up to now, the White Snowfield had been a world of endless flat glaciers. The ice flowed in slow, massive rivers that crawled along the land. At a glance, it seemed level, but everything here was in motion, ancient and unstoppable.

Those glaciers were not ordinary ice. They were a form of foreignness given physical shape. When the Tower Master had tried to cut and retrieve some for study, he had needed Ketal’s help. On his own, even he could not manage it easily.

Now the landscape before them had changed. The ice lay broken in shattered plates and jagged heaps, as if an immense quake had pulverized the land. Crevices yawned like open wounds, and cliffs of torn ice rose at strange angles, with every surface bearing the imprint of overwhelming force.

This was a domain of pure destruction, and at its deepest point, a shape loomed, the massive silhouette of a bear.

It was a bear as large as a mountain, its white fur blending with the snow, its presence occupying the entire horizon. Compared to the Serpent, it was smaller, but that meant nothing. For a living creature, its size was absurd. No ordinary category of life could contain it.

The three of them recognized it without needing to ask. It was the White Bear of legend, the beast said to shake the earth itself. Ketal stepped forward and raised a hand in greeting.

“Bear,” he said. “It has been a while. I am glad to see you.”

“

Grrrrrn...”

A deep, rumbling sound rolled from the bear’s chest. It was not quite a growl, not quite a word. It was more like a question asking why they had come.

Ignisia, the Tower Master, and Bayern all reacted the same way. Without meaning to, they drew on their powers, wrapping themselves in flame, magic, and Aura. There was no killing intent in that single sound. Even so, the sheer pressure behind it made every instinct scream that they were prey.

“I have a small favor to ask, Bear,” Ketal said, smiling. Then, he turned his gaze to the King of the North. “Bayern, if you could.”

“Understood,” Bayern replied.

He stepped past Ketal and came to a stop in front of the Bear. The presence before him could have wiped out his kingdom by shifting a foot, yet his back remained straight and his voice rang clear.

“I am Bayern!” he said. “King of the North, lord of the barbarians of the Outside. White Bear of the White Snowfield, I formally request a duel!”

Bayern stood before them. He was the man who had fought the Ugly Rat, the very embodiment of filth, when it had crawled into the Outside. He had also faced the corrupted cub of the White Bear, the child twisted and controlled by that Rat, and he had been the one to grant it peace.

In that struggle, Bayern had found a new desire. He wanted to stand before the true White Bear, not the child, and cross blades with the legendary monster. For that wish, he had put aside shame and pride and begged Ketal for help. After some thought, Ketal had agreed and brought him into the White Snowfield.

The bear rumbled again, a small, low sound. “

Grnn...

”

The noise carried a meaning Bayern could almost feel, the sound of something questioning why it should accept such a challenge. Bayern understood, and disappointment flickered across his face as his hands tightened around his axe.

“Do it,” he said. “Bear.”

The White Bear had a calmer nature than the Serpent or the Rat. It could be reasoned with, at least a little. Ketal used that.

“He is the one who brought peace to your child,” Ketal said.

“

Grnn?

” The bear’s eyes changed. It made a questioning sound, as if asking if that could truly be so.

“The Rat defiled your child and turned it into its slave,” Ketal said, nodding. “It used that child to attack the Outside. In that battle, the one who granted your child rest was this human.”

Silence followed his words, and the bear offered no immediate response. Then it rose to its feet as the ice beneath its paws shattered and groaned. It grew taller and taller until it seemed to block the sky itself, and the White Snowfield appeared to flinch beneath its looming presence.

“Thank you,” Ketal said, satisfied. “Tower Master, Ignisia, we will pull back.”

“Understood,” the Tower Master said.

“Try not to die,” Ignisia told Bayern.

“I will do what I can,” he answered.

He laughed once, short and fierce, and lifted his axe. Then he strode forward to stand alone before the White Bear.

“In that case,” he shouted, “White Bear of legend, I humbly ask that you fight with me!”

He leapt, his body wrapped in Aura, and the bear shifted a single paw in response.

***

The sound of their clash rolled across the ice. The glaciers trembled, and the air itself was shoved aside with every impact.

Bayern and the White Bear fought. The struggle, however, was not balanced. It was not a desperate back-and-forth. It was brutally one-sided.

“Ketal...,” Ignisia said.

“Yes?” he answered.

“Why did you lie to me?” she asked him. She did not take her eyes off the battle as she spoke. Her expression twisted. “You told me that at my level, I could stand against the legendary monsters. That was obviously not true.”

The Tower Master made a sound that might have been agreement.

The bear took a single step, and the glacier cracked and fractured beneath its weight while the air rippled outward like a struck curtain. This was not the Outside. This was the White Snowfield, a land where every natural phenomenon carried a trace of foreignness, yet even here the Bear’s strength stood above all else. Its casual movements crushed that lingering taint and ruled the realm with the presence of a king..

“It is not as if Bayern is completely helpless,” Ketal said. “He would not fall in an instant. He can wound the monster. If he forced it, he could fight for days.”

He paused a moment, then added the part he could not leave out.

“But I cannot say he would win,” he said. He rubbed his chin. He murmured to himself as if thinking aloud, “I see... So that’s how it is.”

Even when raw power was roughly similar, the overwhelming superiority of the primordial authorities decided the outcome. No matter how strong a warrior became in the Outside, facing the legendary monsters of the White Snowfield was still asking too much.

This was the White Snowfield. This was the home of the creatures that had existed since creation. Ignisia and the Tower Master watched in silence, awe and a hint of dread mixed in their eyes.

The fight continued, and each exchange pushed Bayern closer to the edge. He was a Hero warrior, a king who had honed himself even further in the years since the great war, and he had stepped into a realm far beyond most. Even so, he remained clearly below the Tower Master in rank, and the Tower Master himself had been crushed by the Serpent.

The difference became unmistakable. The bear stepped forward, and the ground shook, and its kick sent Bayern spinning across the ice. Its claws carved through the air and tore flesh from limb with effortless force.

The White Bear’s authority was endless strength. Against Bayern, a warrior whose body was his weapon, it was the worst possible match.

“Are we truly not going to interfere?” Ignisia asked Ketal. “He looks like he is about to die.”

“He is nearing his limit,” Ketal said.

Bayern coughed up blood. He swayed as he forced himself back to his feet, using his axe more as a crutch than as a weapon.

“I can still fight,” he rasped. “I can still...”

The bear let out a low, weary rumble. “

Grnn.

”

Its eyes held a trace of annoyance now. Thin killing intent seeped into the air. It lifted one massive forepaw, intent on ending the fight with a single, crushing blow. Bayern clutched his axe and swung upward in defiance.

“That is enough,” Ketal said as he stepped in between them.

He caught Bayern’s wrist in one hand and lifted the other with his palm open to meet the descending paw. He pushed, and the impact thundered through the White Snowfield. Bayern flew back, tossed aside like a child’s toy, and Ignisia summoned flame to shape a cushion in the air, catching him before he could shatter against the ice. The bear also rocked backward.

“

Grnn?

” It took two steps back, claws gouging trenches in the ice. Its eyes widened. Such a simple movement, such a small effort, yet it had been forced back.

The Bear’s gaze locked on Ketal. Something like disbelief shone there. It had faced Ketal before. It knew he had been powerful beyond reason then, but this was different.

“Let’s stop here,” Ketal said. “Dying or killing over something like this is a waste. Life in this world is far too entertaining for that.”

He shook his hand once, as if brushing off the weight of the Bear’s strike.