CHAPTER 235: THE FLAME BENEATH THE SNOW

The night outside Velra’s hideout deepened, cloaking the forest in silence. Moonlight spilled through the cracks of the old caves ceiling, painting her pale skin in silver. The air trembled faintly—an omen of movement, of armies closing in.

Yet Velra stood still, serene amid the encroaching storm.

Her crimson eyes wandered toward the broken remains of the orb on the floor. The faint hum of its fading magic was the only sound left in the chamber.

"So... they’re finally coming."

Her voice, calm and melodic, echoed through the stone walls. The shadows around her stirred as if responding to their queen’s call.

A thousand years ago, she would have been surrounded by legions of her kind—warriors of the night clad in obsidian armor, waiting for her command. Now, she stood alone. Yet the way she carried herself—effortless, graceful, regal—made the emptiness around her feel like reverence rather than solitude.

"Humans are persistent creatures," she said softly, as if speaking to the moon itself. "Even after all these centuries, they still believe courage can overcome fate."

The corner of her lips curved.

Then she thought about Alice Draken.

The aura surrounding her was pure, fierce, burning with that familiar sense of justice Velra had seen countless times in mortals who rose to fight the darkness.

Velra’s expression softened for a fleeting moment.

"She really does look like him," she whispered. "The man who nearly took my heart... and my head."

Her laugh came quiet but sharp, echoing through the empty hall.

"Descendant of a hero or not," she murmured, trailing a finger down the mirror’s surface, "you’ll learn what it means to challenge a noble of the night."

As her fingertip brushed the glass, ripples of scarlet energy spread across it like blood seeping into water. The ancient sigils carved into the cathedral’s walls began to glow faintly, responding to her call.

One by one, the shattered fragments of the orb on the floor rose into the air, spinning and fusing into crimson shards of energy that circled her.

"It’s been far too long since I’ve had a proper fight."

The wind howled outside.

The ground trembled faintly as her power stirred—heavy, regal, and monstrous. The scent of iron filled the air, mingled with the sweetness of roses.

"Come, little Draken," Velra whispered, her voice slipping through the night like silk. "Let’s see if you’re worthy of that fire you carry."

The torches flickered.

The moon dimmed.

And with a slow, deliberate step, Velra began to move toward the caves entrance—each stride filled with the grace of a queen returning to her throne of war.

—Swoosh.

A surge of power erupted from the cave ahead, shaking the frozen landscape. The air itself trembled, and the snow beneath their boots scattered like dust under the weight of its force.

"This mana...!" one of the knights gasped, clutching his chest as the oppressive pressure spread. "It’s definitely from a demon—and a high-ranking one at that!"

A faint, disdainful snort came through the communication crystal.

—Hmph. Didn’t I tell you my intel was accurate?

Freedman’s voice, smooth and self-satisfied, buzzed faintly within the crystal. Behind him, another ranger’s voice broke through the static, filled with unease.

"It seems they’re not even trying to hide," Alice said quietly, her breath misting in the icy air.

The wind howled, sharp and cold enough to sting the skin.

And within that howling, she heard an echo from memory—a voice dripping with arrogance.

—Although fallen, do you think someone like you, a greenhorn, can defeat me, Velra?

Alice’s jaw tightened. She could almost see that mocking smile, those crimson eyes that had looked down on her as if she were a child grasping at glory.

The provocation still burned in her chest, even now.

"Are you alright, Lady Alice?"

Julies’ voice pulled her back.

He stood beside her, cloak fluttering in the biting wind, his expression composed but his eyes filled with worry.

"Please, reconsider deploying now," he urged. "We could request reinforcements—bring in more forces before engaging directly."

His tone was steady, but the gravity beneath it was unmistakable. He wasn’t just her aide—he was someone who had seen the same nightmare she had. Someone who knew what Velra truly was.

Alice took a slow breath, then exhaled. Her gaze fixed on the distant cave, where an eerie crimson light flickered like a heartbeat.

"I can’t," she said simply.

Her words came calm but firm, unshaken by the cold or the fear that tugged at the edges of her mind.

"As a Draken, I can’t turn away from this. As a warrior, I won’t."

The memory of that night—the humiliation, the helplessness—flashed behind her eyes.

But that was the past.

And the past, no matter how painful, was not a chain. It was a lesson.

"The defeat of the past is just that—the past," she said, gripping the hilt of her sword. "Now, it’s time to move forward."

The blade in her hand hummed faintly, resonating with her conviction. Her ancestor’s sword—the same weapon that had once felled the champions of the demon realm.

She’d trained for years since that day. Fought until her arms bled and her spirit broke—and rebuilt herself stronger each time.

And now, the warriors of the north stood behind her.

Loyal, battle-hardened, and ready.

Turning toward them, Alice raised her chin. Her hair whipped in the storm, and her voice rang through the night like a battle horn.

"Soldiers of the North!" she called out. "Do you see it? The demons dare to flaunt their power upon our land!"

She lifted the communication crystal high, letting them witness the crimson storm brewing over the cave.

"Will we stand idle and watch?" she continued, her words cutting through the cold. "Turn back now if you feel no anger at this insult—at them trampling our homeland. I will not blame you."

She unsheathed her sword, and the moonlight caught on its gleaming edge—pure, cold, and sharp enough to sever fate itself.

"But as for me," she declared, her eyes blazing with determination, "I will advance."

For a moment, no one spoke. The snow fell quietly, settling around the soldiers like a white shroud.

Then, one by one, weapons lifted.

A chorus of voices followed.

"For Lady Alice!"

"For the North!"

Their shouts echoed across the frozen field, breaking the silence of the night.

She really was her ancestor’s descendant.

Perhaps reckless. Perhaps too proud.

But undeniably—she was a Draken.

And tonight, she would either claim her redemption... or carve her name into legend.

The storm raged above, scattering flurries of snow that danced like white embers in the wind. The crimson glow from the cave ahead pulsed rhythmically, like the slow, steady heartbeat of something ancient and powerful.

Alice stepped forward, her boots crunching against the frozen ground. The soldiers’ eyes followed her—hundreds of them—filled with fear, hope, and something even stronger.

Resolve.

Her breath came out in steady puffs of mist as she raised her sword high, the ancestral steel gleaming like a sliver of moonlight.

"Look closely," she began, her voice echoing across the frozen plain. "The sky itself trembles beneath that cursed light. That is the mark of a demon—a creature that believes it can rule over us."

The soldiers stiffened, listening. Even the wind seemed to pause for her words.

"But what are demons, really?" she continued, pacing slowly in front of her troops. "Monsters that thrive on fear. Beasts that believe humans are weak because we bleed, because we break, because we die."

She stopped, turning sharply to face them. Her eyes—cold and blue as the northern ice—burned with fierce determination.

"Yes, we bleed. Yes, we break. And yes, we die. But that is exactly why we fight."

A hush fell. Her voice lowered, but every word struck like a hammer against the heart.

"Because every drop of our blood carries the weight of those who came before us. Every scar we bear tells the story of someone who refused to kneel."

She held her sword horizontally, the steel catching the faint reflection of the soldiers’ faces.

"Do you see this blade? It once belonged to my ancestor—the woman who faced ten demon generals and cut them down without taking a single step back. That same courage flows through every one of us standing here today."

Her grip tightened around the hilt.

"So I ask you—not as your commander, but as one of you."

Her voice rose, fierce and clear.

"Will you let those creatures mock our fallen brothers? Will you let them burn the North and call it theirs?"

The soldiers roared back, their voices merging into one thunderous cry.

"Never!"

Alice’s eyes softened for a moment. Pride. Gratitude. And something unspoken that trembled beneath her calm exterior.

She turned toward the cave again, her cape whipping behind her as snow swirled violently.

"Then remember this—" she said, her tone firm and resolute. "Every demon believes we are fragile. That our hearts are easily broken."

She raised her blade to the storming sky.

"Show them they’re wrong."

The soldiers banged their shields, the ground trembling beneath the synchronized rhythm.

"Show them the fury of the North!"

The last word tore through the air like lightning.

And then—silence.

Only the sound of their breath remained, steady and strong.

Julies watched her from the side, a quiet smile flickering on his lips despite the storm biting at his face.

’She’s grown,’ he thought. ’Not just in strength—but in spirit.’

Alice took one final step forward, the glow from the cave reflecting in her eyes.

"Velra," she whispered under her breath, the name cutting through the cold. "Tonight, the North reclaims what it lost."

Then she raised her sword high and shouted—

"Forward!"

The soldiers surged behind her, voices uniting into a single, defiant roar that split the frozen silence of the North.