Volume 4 Chapter 32 Joint Training on Snow Mountain ①
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”I did have ‘playing tag on Snow Mountain’ on the list of things you wanted to try, but I never imagined the Order of the Lightning Knights would be joining us,” Kian said, glancing over the line of women assembled on the morning beach.
The Lightning Knights wore helms decorated with feathered crests, silver-white armor covering their chests, and battle skirts cut short to mid-thigh. To this they added fur-lined boots and white capes that hung from their shoulders—garb as suited for camouflage on Snow Mountain as it was for warmth.
”Still,” Kian remarked, letting his eyes slide casually over Guria’s bare arms and the expanse of thigh above her boots, “that’s rather light gear, even with the cloaks.”
”Our order wields lightning itself, striking with a speed the eye cannot follow,” said Circe, the tall dark elf with whom he had shaken hands earlier. Her voice was calm and resonant.
”Iron armor becomes a burden. Unlike the western knights, we do not meet force with force, grappling and rolling across the ground.”
”The moment we grapple, the fight is already ours!” came a brash female voice from behind Circe. Rough, masculine in tone, yet unmistakably belonging to a woman. Kian’s vampiric sense told him the same thing: every member of the Lightning Knights was female.
”O-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho! Once blades are locked in a bind, we simply channel lightning through the clash—battle over~desuwa!”
”Bzzzzt! Just like that!” another chimed in brightly.
”I see. So that explains the light armor,” Kian nodded. “No long-range duels—those are avoided. Close in, and you end it with lightning in one blow.”
”When fighting aboard ship,” Circe added with a smile, glancing back at her troop, “it is long-range spellfire. If the enemy boards, a charge of electricity across the soaked deck ends things swiftly.”
Now that he thought about it, her perfume was strong, cloying against the salt air. Her body was striking, yes, but the heavy scent made it less appealing.
”In actual combat,” Circe continued, “we do not clang swords like western knights. We close from mid-range, strike, and retreat to safety in a single motion—much like a griffin’s dive from the skies. For that, we hold these exercises we call ‘tag,’ honing our one-strike withdrawal tactics.”
”Thank you for explaining so clearly,” Kian said.
”Normally we do this on deck or on the training grounds,” Guria put in, her voice tinged with apology. “But today, I asked them to make an exception for Snow Mountain.” She glanced back at the assembled women. “I’m really sorry, everyone. I never thought filling my little list would become such a big production.”
”Not at all! With snow, a fall won’t break bones, and we can run at full tilt! Hah-hah-hah-hah!”
”Strengthening the legs is a lady’s duty~desuwa! Snow Mountain is most welcome. I shall demonstrate my dazzling tag technique! O-ho-ho-ho-ho!”
”Mbobo, bobobobo, bobyu-bobo, mbobodorururu!”
”Shark-Shark says she doesn’t mind! Though she’s not fond of the cold, being a shark!” another added.
Kian could not see much beyond Circe’s tall frame, but even from their voices alone, it was clear the Knights were a collection of strong personalities.
Unlike western women, the Lightning Knights radiated a boldness almost masculine in its vigor—a brightness and confidence born of women who had earned their place on the battlefield, defending their people with pride.
”My apologies, Lord Kian,” Circe said at last, folding her arms gracefully. “I must first address a matter. This is Medea.” She indicated a half-elf with spectacles. “I am told she subjected you, when you were exhausted, to an interrogation lasting five hours.”
Medea, heels pressed tight together, snapped rigid at being named. Though her expression was calm as ever—poker-faced, even—her fingers twitched nervously, adjusting her glasses again and again.
She stepped forward, the brown skin of her long legs gleaming beneath her battle skirt, and raised her silver eyes to Kian. Her voice, pure soprano, carried a shy, girlish timbre despite her adult bearing.
”Master Kian. I sincerely apologize for my conduct the other day.”
Circe’s alto was as rich and mature as her appearance; Medea’s, in contrast, held a fragile innocence. She lowered her gaze, silver brows drawing together.
”You saved the Princess and even captured the enemy commander Abbas, yet I treated you as though you were some criminal suspect. I am ashamed beyond words.”
”I should hope you are,” Kian replied, keeping his tone light to avoid outright malice, but sharp enough to make his displeasure clear. To brush it aside too easily would weaken his standing.
’Yes. When they bow their heads, press the advantage. Show the Lightning Knights that here, now, you outrank their vice-commander. Be forceful. She cannot answer back.’
”Truthfully, Ms. Medea, you wasted my precious time. My schedule is now in chaos. Do you smell the salt still clinging to my clothes? I had to work through the night without rest to catch up on merchant guild duties.”
”I am deeply sorry.”
”You think bowing and pretending at remorse will make it right? Is that the Crete way?”
”My sincerest apologies.”
Medea sank to one knee. From Kian’s vantage, the crown of her silver hair glittered in the morning sun.
”This is pointless. Ms. Circe, you’re not suggesting we lay all the blame at Ms. Medea’s feet and call it even, are you?”
”That was my thought… was I mistaken?”
”You are. My merchant guild was harassed just days ago by Mr. Scipio Crete and Mr. Balinars. They stormed in under the pretext that a criminal had slipped onto our grounds, and they tore apart the guild’s spotless first floor. Now the entrance and every chamber beyond are caked in sand. And now—here we are again, with Ms. Medea.”
Kian gazed down at Medea, still pressed to the ground.
”I’m sorry, but my estimation of the Kingdom of Crete’s government has hit rock bottom. I feel like venting this entire grievance to Her Excellency Maribel, or perhaps to my friend, Cardinal Homolka.”
”Your anger is justified. But—”
”No buts. Ensure that I and my merchant guild’s executives may reside in Crete permanently. If possible, grant us official recognition as citizens. We will pay taxes. However, should any member of our guild commit a crime, I demand that they be tried under Izerland law. Unless these terms are met, my resentment will not abate.”
”Oooh, bold words. I like a cocky man like that. Makes him fun to break in,” Caesar sneered.
”Shh, Caesar-Caesar, quiet. This is important,” another voice hushed.
”…To think a vice-captain bows her head while that man struts with such arrogance. I detest him. I’d like to spank some humility into him,” someone muttered.
”Mbobo! Bobobobyu! Byubobobo!”
”Silence, all of you.”
The Order of the Lightning Knights erupted into murmurs, but a clear, ringing girl’s voice cut through them. The company fell instantly quiet. Kian’s eyes followed the sound and met the gaze of a white-furred fox girl standing at the edge of the crowd.
He recognized her—Rita, the fox beastman he had encountered with Guria days before. Her sharp golden eyes glared with open hostility. Given his words, such enmity was natural. Yet Kian sensed there was something more personal behind her dislike, something he could not yet name. Years as a scavenger had honed that instinct.
”…Permanent residence, or citizenship itself?”
”Yes. That is what I said.”
Kian smiled up at the towering dark elf. Circe, commander of the order and head magician, opened her deep Aisha-dark eyes to look down at him. Her presence alone radiated oppressive weight unlike any other.
It reminded him faintly of when Aliona had asked Natra, “Was it that little lady who killed my Kian once?”
But Kian, dulled to fear, held Circe’s gaze unflinching. At length, her expression softened into a gentle smile.
”This is not mine to decide. I will bring it before the kingdom’s council.”
”Then be advised—depending on the outcome, I may become your enemy.”
”After burning Cyclops Island, do you really think you can ally with Lord Jibril?”
”Perhaps. But my younger brother is surely delighted that his rival, Flora Malc, lies dead. And one need not side with Azrael; the Azrael coast teems with other powers.”
”——”
”Hahaha.”
The air grew taut as Kian and Circe locked eyes, both smiling, neither yielding. Guria finally burst in, unable to endure it.
”Ahhh! Listen! We didn’t come to fight you, Kian, really! Truly! I just—I just wanted to thank you for helping me so much!”
”I know, Guria.”
At the sound of her name on his lips, Guria’s face lit up. By contrast, Circe and kneeling Medea’s eyes flashed sharp.
”In any case, Ms. Circe, decide swiftly whether you will accept our demands.”
”Understood. But such a grave matter will take time.”
”Ten days. Deliver your answer by the evening of the tenth day. Otherwise, we will not remain passive—we will act. You command many subordinates, Ms. Circe, and I too must show dignity before my own. I hope we both find room for compromise.”
Circe gave no reply, only said, “I will bring this matter at once. Medea, the rest is yours,” and turned back up the beach.
The Order of the Lightning Knights remained behind, their mood infernal.
”Well then, enjoy your game of tag. I’ll enjoy the rest of my breakfast.”
”Ehhhhh!? Kian! That wasn’t the deal! You said you’d help fill the list!” Guria cried.
”Circumstances have changed.” He shrugged. “I don’t doubt you want to play tag with me. But I can’t read the intentions of those standing behind you. Follow them up Snow Mountain, and they might just ‘accidentally’ shove me off a cliff.”
”Hah? No need for tricks—I’ll pound you flat right here!” Caesar shouted.
”Stop it, Caesar! You’ll lose! He’s the monster who slew the Sword Saint of the Sun and the Thorn Demon!”
”Don’t care! Justice always triumphs! Evil will vanish before my blazing heart! Prepare yourself, Kian Vahid!”
”Ughhh, she’s hopeless,” someone whimpered.
”Mbombo! Bubobo! Mbudoryururu!”
”I would never!” Guria snapped, lifting her brows as she swept her eyes over Medea and the rest.
”Listen, all of you! This man is my savior! To raise a blade against him is the same as raising one against me, Guria Selda Crete! Is that clear? …Kian, how’s that?”
”How’s that? You mean, do you still intend to play tag in this atmosphere?”
”Of course, duh! We’re making memories of a lifetime, Kian!”
Hands on her hips, Guria beamed.
At her words—memories of a lifetime—the faces of the Order of the Lightning Knights darkened in unison. Their expressions turned heavy, each knight looking away from the princess of Crete as though unable to bear the weight of it.
”If the princess of Crete insists so strongly, then… we have little choice but to accept this invitation to ‘joint training,’ I suppose.”
”Good! That’s a promise! A whole day of tag with me. Now, enough of those gloomy faces. Medea—how long do you plan to stay kneeling? Get up and make peace with Kian, handshake and all!”
”Yes.”
Medea rose gracefully and stepped forward.
”My apologies, Lord Kian.”
”You can show your sincerity by granting me permanent residency. Anything less is unnecessary.”
”….”
Her lips did not move, her expression remained unchanged, yet the gray of Medea’s eyes retreated slightly from Kian. No doubt she was thinking something along the lines of what a dangerous man we’ve invited to our island. Dangerous? He thought back sourly—it was her side that had mishandled the first exchange, not him.
”You there.”
Another figure stepped past Medea. A petite girl, striking for her hair—a brilliant crimson, rare in Crete where dark shades prevailed. Perhaps even brighter than Leprobus’s.
Like many knights, she tied it back high in a ponytail, a red ribbon matching her hair fluttering neatly. She clasped her hands beneath her chestplate and glared up at him with bold, challenging eyes.
”I don’t care if you’re some hero of Ramsey. If you join our training, I will hold nothing back. For your insult toward Lady Circe and Lady Medea, I shall thrash you until you regret it! Nyohohohohoho!”
She flicked an errant strand behind her ear with her knuckles, laughing in a piercing, highborn trill. Every recruit Maribel had scouted seemed eccentric, but these knights hardly fell short in quirks.
”Training? You mean tag on Snow Mountain, yes?”
Kian turned to Medea, the half-elf beauty, who inclined her head.
”Yes. But it is no ordinary tag.”
”The serious kind—with Physical Enhancement active,” Guria explained brightly. “Weapons allowed, magic allowed. If you’re ‘it,’ your job is to land a clean hit.”
”No polite tap on the shoulder, ♡ oh no!” the red-haired knight crowed. “Though I am a lady in all respects, I may, oops!… slap you instead. Or strike your groin with my weapon—purely by accident, of course. It’s training, after all. Knights fight with all their might. Surely you understand.”
”Ha! No rules. I’ll smash that pretty face of yours, Kian Vahid.”
”Everyone!” Guria clapped her hands. “No one’s half-killing Kian, understood?”
”Princess,” Medea interjected, pushing her glasses up with a finger. “Master Kian is the one who, in a single night, annihilated Cyclops Island’s military base, slew Flora of the Twelve Divine Generals, and captured their commander Abbas alive.”
”Wait—what?”
”If the rules are truly without restraint, then it is we who must brace ourselves. Lord Kian, our interrogations of Abbas have confirmed your feats. Our scouts too have reported a third of that fortress reduced to ash.”
”I see.”
”Not only Flora Malc but her daughters as well, all formidable apostles. You destroyed them all.”
”They were strong, yes,” Kian replied evenly.
Though they fell in an instant, he added silently.
Training under Isthbaran had honed him into a warrior monk of rare caliber. Sarah had once said Kian only lacked experience wielding vast amounts of energy. Four months of desperate, all-out battles had filled that gap—his Dance Swordsmanship had at last come fully into being.
”…Today, I intend to challenge you as though borrowing the strength of your chest. Please accept my respect.”
”Likewise. I hadn’t planned to join, but since I’ve agreed to this training, I’ll give it my all.”
’You understand, don’t you?’ The voice of his handler whispered in his mind. ‘Extract from Princess Guria Selda the precise time of General Asterios’s summoning. That is the highest priority. Everything else is wasted effort. Play sparingly.’
(Understood.)
Kian excused himself briefly, explained the situation to Rou, downed the remainder of breakfast, and returned. By then, about ten giant dragonflies—mounts belonging to the Order of the Lightning Knights—had landed on the beach.
”Kian, welcome back!”
”Master Kian,” Medea said. “Seventy of our finest will participate in today’s training. If possible, we’d like your impressions afterward—whether our knights compare favorably to the warrior monks you have faced.”
”Very well.”
He nodded to her, then allowed Guria to tug him toward the largest of the dragonflies, adorned with the crest of Crete’s royal house. Medea rode just ahead, Guria beside him, while behind sat the red-haired knight and a white-fox girl named Rita.
The air was already heavy with tension, and they had not even departed for Snow Mountain.
Kian returned Guria’s chatter with a courteous smile, waiting quietly for departure.
* * *
Though Crete was a southern land, by December its mountains saw heavy snowfall.
The dragonflies carried Kian to the mid-slope of a high peak in the heart of Grass Island. There were no wealthy tourists skiing or sledding; the Order had the mountain to themselves.
He had expected a cramped slope where reckless pursuit would prove deadly. Instead, they descended into a broad, open slope, beautifully cleared of trees. A spacious plaza spread beneath them, from which gentle slopes fanned out in four directions.
Between each slope stood groves of trees, carefully thinned to leave wide passageways. The sight resembled a network of forest trails designed for sledding.
A battlefield in the guise of winter play.
The Order of the Lightning Knights usually fought aboard ships or across beaches. To train as mountain soldiers like Chatillon’s troops in deep snow forests would, ironically, only distance them from real combat.
For Kian, who had endured merciless survival drills as a child in the monastery, this felt almost light by comparison.
”We’ll play tag in three teams—twenty, twenty-five, and twenty-five.”
Medea’s voice rang out over the rows of young knights. Despite their light armor, none seemed cold. Rather, like great beasts of the snowy wild, they exhaled thick white breaths that clouded the air. To Kian’s vampiric senses, each girl’s heart thundered, pumping hot blood in fierce circulation.
All of them were hardy—prime specimens.
And every last one was beautiful.
The Order of the Lightning Knights embodied Crete’s martial pride not only through strength, but through beauty.
”Split up as usual. We’ll swap people mid-round! Begin!”
Her half-elven hand clapped sharply.
While Kian stood idle, the girls quickly divided into three groups. Two teams withdrew to the side, stretching and jogging in place to prepare.
”The first round begins with Team One!” Medea announced.
”Uh, Ms. Medea, I don’t understand any of this,” Kian admitted.
”Master Kian, you’re the first oni—the chaser.”
”Me? The oni? So I just need to tag the other twenty-four?”
”No.”
”…What?”
”This game is no ordinary tag, Master Kian.”
A red-haired girl narrowed her green eyes and drew a thunderstone short-spear from her back. Cruder than Guria’s, but all the more suited for battle.
”The oni must land a single blow on us rabbits. That’s the victory condition.”
Beside her, a small girl with bright green twin-tails spoke timidly. She looked like a child, but she was likely a dwarven warrior famed for brute strength.
She hefted an axe as large as Asterios’s, forged of thunderstone. Its half-circle blade was jagged by design, made not for cutting clean, but for crushing—or for snagging flesh in its teeth to tear it away. In her hands, the weapon radiated nothing but murder.
”P-Please, Master Kian. Lend us your strength!”
”Wait—so, to land a blow… would a touch on the shoulder count? I don’t want to rough up women.”
”If you can reap our awareness with a pat on the shoulder, then go ahead. Or kiss our asses for all I care, spice-boy,” sneered the dark-skinned, scarred woman the dwarf called by Caesar. She chuckled low, warping the white scar at her lip. “But we’re no ordinary rabbits. We’re rabbits that bite the throat out of the fox that chases.”
”I see. So basically, twenty-four against one—a group lynching.”
”No, five on twenty-four, Lord Kian.”
From behind, a calm voice spoke. Rita, the fox-eared girl, extended a pale hand, her snow-white fur blending with the drifts.
”I’ll be oni too. I look forward to working with you, Lord Kian.”
”Likewise.”
”Thus we fight until sunset, rotating the oni. That is our training—our version of tag. Do you understand now, Master Kian?” Medea asked.
”Yes, Ms. Medea.”
’They’ve even sorted the teams using electricity,’ Talia murmured in his mind. ‘Most likely, they use electrical signals to communicate mid-battle. A highly disciplined army.’
(Could I sense that electricity using Asterios’s power?)
’You could—but if you mean to bring down Guria Selda, you must not. Keep the Minotaur’s strength hidden.’
(I know.)
”A pity! I’m stuck in the medical corps this round,” Guria said cheerfully, waving. “I’ll cheer you on! Go, Kian, Rita!”
”…Being cheered on by the Princess is intolerable,” Eugenia Barba declared. Blue lightning danced over her body. “As her devoted fan, I, Eugenia, shall crush the insolent newcomer! Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!”
”So you admit you’re a problem fan, Eugenia?”
”Before she gets you, I’ll smash you first!” Caesar barked.
”Blrrblrrblrrr!”
The incomprehensible noise came from a blue-haired girl with a shark’s tail jutting from her hips—clearly a shark-folk. Kian, unfamiliar with minority tongues, had no idea what she was saying.
”Blrrblrr!”
Correction: she was giving him the finger with a smirk. She was definitely taunting him. Clearly fair game to beat down.
”Tag group, stay within this boundary.”
Medea snapped her fingers. Emerald light streaked across the ground, drawing a wide circle around the flat clearing. Several girls scrambled back behind the glowing line.
She glanced at Kian and the others, then began to count down.
”Five, four, three, two, one—”
”Uooooooraaaaah! Die, Kian Vahid!”
The shout overlapped her voice. Caesar, the scarred brawler, lunged with her spear raised.
Behind her, the dwarf girl cast a strengthening spell, then sprang forward with her monstrous axe, vanishing in a blur.
Tag—was this really tag?
The thought flickered, but hesitation meant death. A thunderstone spear would skewer his heart.
”Caesar, wait—!” Guria’s panicked cry rang out.
At the last instant, Kian vanished, leaving behind only a shimmer of black feathers like a crow’s molt.
”…What—?”
”Caesar, behind you!” the dwarf shouted.
He had used the Secret Technique Mist Raven to gain distance from Rita, but the dwarf girl’s sharp eyes immediately locked onto the spot where he reappeared.
He had thought them fools for a moment, but aside from Caesar, each of them calmly pinpointed his position. Their skill was undeniable—stronger than Balinars’s men, more battle-hardened than Guria.
’Was it wise to use a Secret Technique?‘
(Why not? If there’s someone like Natra who can steal techniques, then I’d like to fight them. Until then, I’ll use them freely.)
Kian no longer clung to Dance Swordsmanship the way he once had. Now, he simply slipped past the dwarf girl’s relentless axe swings, light as a feather.
The strikes came slowly, but each one carried the weight to blast apart a snowbank. She spun with the weapon, whirling as if her entire body were the axe, making her timing difficult to read.
And she could also launch sudden charges wreathed in lightning. Taken together, she was no ordinary warrior monk—against trained monsters, her raw power alone could wreak devastation.
”Take this—hiyaaaah!” she shouted.
Her momentum lifted her body, spinning with centrifugal force. Caesar clicked ers tongue and circled behind Kian, clearly to avoid being caught in the sweeping arc of the axe.
Kian—
”… …hah… hhsshh!”
—channeled Leap into his legs, throwing himself straight into the path of the axe. In the same instant, his body dissolved into mist and reformed behind the dwarf girl.
”Wha—!?”
”Meimei! Nnnhhhhaaaaaa!”
Just as Kian reached for her neck, the red-haired girl barreled in from the side. At the same time, the dwarf girl’s body erupted with crackling blue lightning, threatening to paralyze him on contact.
(Strong, no doubt. But all I need is to reap her consciousness without ever touching her skin.)
Kian slipped past Eugenia’s interference with ease, then struck the dwarf girl’s neck with Shot, slamming her into the ground.
He spun away, light as drifting snow, and lashed out with a flurry of Shots against Caesar and the five rabbit-eared knight girls.
”Aaaarghhh!”
”Mmmmbbbbggghhh!?”
”C-Caesar! Shark! Nghhh, nnhhooooooohhhh!”
The red-haired girl let out a bizarre war cry as she slashed at him.
”Nnnnhoooooohhhh!—hah!?”
But her charge ended abruptly. The white fox-eared knight, Rita, materialized behind her and drove a fist into her neck with a heavy thwack. The dangerous blow left the red-haired girl sprawled lifelessly in the snow.
”Impressive,” Kian said.
”It is finished, Lord Kian. Our victory.” Rita’s tone was calm, matter-of-fact. Unlike the other knight girls, she merely slid her wooden sword back into its sheath.
Kian looked around. Of the first squad on the snowy field, only he and the fox girl remained standing.
Notes:
• Abbas – The heir of the Shakerdoust family, a prominent clan within the Twelve Divine Generals.
• Leprobus – Rou’s comrade who sacrificed his chance to escape during a pirate raid by pushing Rou off in a small boat. He returned to the deck, sword in hand, to protect the others. Distinguished by his giant blood and burning red hair, marking him as more than human. He is released by Kian on Cyclops Island jail.【v4c23】.
• Isthbaran – The High Warlord of the ‘Storm Herd.’
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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