CHAPTER 243: STEP TORWARD VICTORY

Amelia’s expression hardened. "Then why did my fiancé request military support from my family?"

She had thrown herself into helping me, gone against the rules of her own house, only to find the reinforcements she’d gathered might not change anything at all.

I could see her knuckles tighten around the reins, the faint tremor in her hand betraying the emotion she tried so hard to hide.

—"Ami... Yes, I must express my gratitude to her separately."

Before Amelia could get another word in, I activated the crystal orb, letting it project a short voice recording.

A voice we both recognized echoed softly through the air.

At once, her irritation faltered. Her brows twitched, and that icy tone she’d been using melted just a little. When she spoke again, her usual fire had returned.

"Hmph. Don’t think you can just gloss over things with flattery," she said, folding her arms. "So tell me—why involve the Frost family?"

I tilted my head slightly. "Do you really not know? It’s part of the deal, remember?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You mean that deal?"

I smiled faintly. "Exactly that one."

In truth, this whole situation was already tilting in our favor.

Even if Velra somehow bested Alice in their duel, she wouldn’t get far afterward. The Duke’s knights were already on the move; sooner or later, they’d corner her.

Joining a battle that was bound to end in victory wasn’t a gamble—it was an investment.

And for someone like Amelia, who was both a noble and a merchant, it was a golden opportunity: build ties with the ducal house, earn favor with Lady Alice, and let the Frost name shine in the aftermath.

I glanced at her, half amused. Strange... for a merchant, she’s not thinking like one today.

Then I noticed it—the faint red tint coloring her ears.

Ah. Of course.

Alice.

I couldn’t help but smirk. So that’s why she’s ignoring the obvious profit.

For all her composure, Amelia Frost was hopelessly transparent when it came to her idol.

After all, to be a true admirer, one had to know how to draw the line between reason and affection—and she was failing beautifully at that.

"Cough, cough!" she said abruptly, straightening in her saddle. "Right. I understand. Thanks for the consideration. But what’s your real intention, Julies? You didn’t just want troops, did you?"

I nodded slightly, my tone calm but purposeful. "You’re right. I needed your family’s military support—for what comes after the duel."

She frowned. "After?"

"Yes. Once the duel ends, the real danger begins. And when that happens..." I glanced toward the horizon, where faint mana ripples still shimmered in the cold air. "...your soldiers, and you, will be crucial."

Amelia followed my gaze, her expression tightening as she understood the implication.

Two hundred soldiers and one capable noblewoman—more than enough to respond to what was coming.

"For now," I said, shifting the reins, "let’s just watch how this plays out."

"The parasite’s next move," I murmured, to myself, "depends entirely on who walks away from that duel."

Amelia’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it grew sharper, as though she were dissecting every word I’d said, every pause between them.

Her voice came low, thoughtful. "You say after the duel. You’re expecting something else to happen, aren’t you?"

I met her gaze evenly. "I’m expecting the aftermath."

"The aftermath?" she echoed.

I nodded. "Demons don’t fall quietly, Amelia. When Velra is defeated—if she’s defeated—there will be chaos. Maybe her minions, maybe opportunists from the nearby territories. Something will move in the power vacuum she leaves behind. And when it does, I’d rather the Frost name be there first."

For a moment, she said nothing, her eyes narrowing as she processed it. Then, finally, she sighed through her nose. "So that’s your real game. You want to make sure whoever writes the story afterward puts your name—and mine—on the first page."

"That’s how history works, isn’t it?" I said with a faint smile. "Those who arrive after the victory but before the cleanup are often remembered as heroes."

Her lips quirked slightly. "And here I thought you were acting out of loyalty to Lady Alice."

"I am," I said simply. "But loyalty doesn’t exclude strategy."

That earned me a quiet laugh—short, controlled, but genuine. The kind of laugh she used when she didn’t want to admit she agreed.

"You really are insufferable," she murmured, shaking her head. "You make everything sound so pragmatic. So... transactional."

"Coming from a Frost," I said lightly, "that sounds like a compliment."

Her eyes flicked toward me, glinting with something halfway between annoyance and amusement. "Don’t push it."

We rode in silence for a few moments, snow crunching softly beneath our horses’ hooves. The faint glow of the ducal encampment was visible now—lanterns swaying in the wind, soldiers preparing for the inevitable clash.

"You know," she said at last, her voice quieter, "I used to think Alice was reckless. Charging into danger, facing monsters like she didn’t care about her own life."

I glanced sideways. "And now?"

Amelia’s gaze lingered on the distant lights. "Now I think I understand. Some people can’t wait for permission to act. They just move. They do what needs to be done, even if it terrifies everyone else."

Her words hung in the air, soft but heavy.

"She’ll win," she said finally, almost to herself. "She has to."

I didn’t answer.

Because deep down, I wanted to believe that too.

But I knew better than to rely on certainty in a world where strength alone decided who lived and who vanished in the snow.

Instead, I tightened my grip on the reins and said quietly, "Then we’ll make sure she has something to come back to when it’s over."

Amelia turned her head slightly, just enough for our eyes to meet again.

For once, there was no challenge in her gaze—just resolve.

"Fine," she said, tugging her cloak closer. "Then let’s be ready for whatever comes next."

I smiled faintly. "Always."

And as the wind carried the faint echo of steel clashing in the distance, we urged our horses forward—into the heart of the storm.

----

"There it is!"

The shout came from one of the scouts as we reached the mouth of the cave, snow swirling violently in the wind. Guided by Freedman and the rangers, the troops fanned out and took their positions.

The moment we arrived, a suffocating wave of mana poured out from within the cavern—dark, oppressive, and cold enough to make even the air feel heavy.

"You insignificant humans," a voice echoed from the darkness, dripping with disdain. "You dare to gang up on me in hopes of taking my life?"

The figure that emerged was unmistakable.

Velra.

The vampire stood at the cave’s entrance, her crimson eyes glowing faintly in the pale light. The snow around her hissed and melted where her magic touched, steam rising like breath from a wounded beast.

Even surrounded by hundreds of soldiers, she looked utterly unbothered—like a queen facing a gathering of insects.

"Ugh... what kind of mana is this?!" one soldier gasped, clutching his chest.

"She’s no ordinary demon!" another barked. "Hold the line—maintain formation!"

But the words rang hollow.

Most of them were already struggling to stay upright, knees buckling under the sheer pressure radiating from Velra. It wasn’t just magic—it was domination. A primal force that demanded submission.

And yet, there were a few who stood firm.

Among them—Alice.

"...It’s been a while," she said, her voice cutting through the storm like steel. "Do you remember me?"

Velra tilted her head, eyes glinting with amusement. "Ho-ho... the descendant of that pitiful warrior who once knelt before me."

The insult was met with the sound of steel being drawn.

—Shing.

Alice’s sword gleamed like a shard of moonlight against the blizzard.

"This time," she said evenly, "it will be different."

Velra smirked, her fangs flashing. "We’ll see. You’re stronger than before, I’ll give you that—but still too weak to interest me."

Her gaze shifted briefly—to the man standing beside Alice.

"The one next to you, however... he seems far more promising."

That man was Sir Bardic, the Draken family’s famed knight—her father’s insurance against disaster.

But Alice’s expression didn’t waver.

"Your opponent is me," she declared.

She hadn’t come this far to rely on anyone else. This was her battle—her redemption.

Victory means nothing if I don’t earn it myself.

Her fingers tightened around the hilt.

"All units, form up! Maintain the encirclement," she ordered without looking back. "Do not interfere until I’ve won."

A faint chuckle escaped Velra’s lips. "Such courage. But courage without foresight... is only another form of recklessness."

In the blink of an eye, the distance between them vanished.

A sudden gust of wind ripped through the snow as Velra stepped forward, her movement almost too fast to follow.

The soldiers flinched, some even gasped—

But Alice didn’t move.

Her heart raced, yet her gaze stayed fixed and unyielding.

Her breath steadied. Her sword rose.

A hot heart, a cool head.

She smirked faintly. "I told you. It’s different this time."

Forget the fear.

Overcome the humiliation of the past.

She took a single step forward—

—and swung her blade toward victory.