The Genius Son-in-law of the Swordmaster Household—Blessed by Authority

Chapter 173 : Frozen Sea (2)

Frozen Sea (2)

The port city of Winterlock, situated at the northern edge of the Roderun Empire.

Hundreds of men crowded the plaza, a biting wind cutting through the air like a blade.

Every one of them had a fierce look, their faces marred with scars.

They were mercenaries who'd volunteered for this expedition to hunt the "Whale of the Frozen Sea."

"Next! Number 148!"

An imperial army officer shouted the number, sounding annoyed.

In the center of the square was a massive lump of iron.

It was an anchor used to dock ships.

"If you can lift this up to your waist without using aura, you pass. If you can't, get lost. We have no need for freeloaders."

"Grrr...!"

The 148th mercenary strained with bulging veins, gripping the iron lump tightly.

But the thing didn't budge an inch.

"Fail! Next!"

"D-damn it! How are we supposed to lift this without using aura!?"

"What, you gonna just die if you run out of aura on the battlefield? We aren't looking for porters, we're picking real men who can fight alongside us. If you aren't sturdy, we don't need you!"

At the officer's cold rebuke, the mercenary cursed and stepped away.

The faces of the other mercenaries in line darkened as well.

Lifting a chunk of metal like that with pure muscle alone was all but impossible unless you were at least at the Expert rank.

Just then—

"Next. Number 149."

A hulking man in a tightly drawn black hood stepped forward.

A massive, rugged greatsword was strapped across his back.

It was Ian, his identity disguised.

"Oh?"

The officer raised an eyebrow as he checked out Ian's broad shoulders and thick forearms.

"You pass on build alone. Name?"

"Khan."

The name he was using in disguise.

"All right, Khan. Let's see what you've got."

Ian approached the lump of iron.

'With this much weight...'

It was easily over a ton.

An ordinary human wouldn't even dream of lifting it, but Ian didn't care.

Aside from the Heavenly Blood Pill he'd taken long ago, the Authority of Projection allowed [Strength of the Barbarian Great Warrior], [Orc's Strength], [Troll's Strength], and all sorts of strength-boosting Traits to stack on his body.

–Grab.

Ian gripped the handle of the lump of iron with one hand.

"Heh."

The officer let out a hollow chuckle.

"Hey, big guy, you'll have trouble even with two hands, you know—"

He was about to laugh when—

–Whoosh!

"... What the—!"

The massive lump of iron floated up into the air as if it were a feather.

Ian lifted it to shoulder height, then lightly bounced it up and down a couple of times.

"Is this enough?"

–Boom!

When Ian set the iron down, the entire plaza shuddered as if struck by an earthquake.

"... Huh..."

The officer's mouth fell open.

Even the mercenaries watching nearby fell silent.

Playing around with that weight single-handedly, without even using aura?

"I asked if I passed."

Ian asked, feigning a barbarian-like tone.

The officer, finally snapping back to his senses, nodded urgently.

"P-passed! Highest grade! Assign him immediately!"

Ian grinned and accepted his certificate, moving to the waiting line.

The other mercenaries parted like the Red Sea, whispering as he passed.

"W-what is that guy? A barbarian... or maybe an ogre-blood?"

"If you pick a fight with him, they'll never even find your bones."

Ian ignored their reactions, taking a spot in the corner.

'The first step's gone well.'

He'd succeeded infiltrating the expedition.

Now, all that remained was identifying the targets.

A short while later—

The mercenary selection ended, and hundreds of people assembled in formation in the plaza by the harbor.

–Bwooooooo!

With a thunderous blast of the ship's horn, the command group of the expedition appeared.

The first thing to catch the eye was a woman walking alongside the imperial generals.

Golden hair that didn't so much as ripple in the frigid northern wind.

A straight, proud back and an arrogant, imposing gaze.

'Veronica Hisperion.'

Second daughter of the Heavenly Sword Lord, and the fourth child.

An ambitious schemer, she'd allied herself with the Third Imperial Princess and was gathering power in the Roderun Empire, all to lay claim to the position of the next Heavenly Sword Lord.

She didn't even glance at the imperial general speaking to her, scanning the mercenaries with an icy gaze.

"The level... General, do you really plan on catching the King of the Frozen Sea with this rabble?"

She was quite far off, but her voice was crystal clear to Ian, whose hearing was unusually sharp.

"W-well now, lady Veronica. Please, mind your words! These men are formally employed by the Empire—"

"I doubt they'd make even decent meat shields. Even if I wanted to sugarcoat it, there's a limit."

Veronica's barbed words turned the general's face red, then blue.

'As usual.'

Ian clicked his tongue beneath his hood.

That high-handed, blunt personality of Veronica's.

She'd made plenty of enemies in her past life because of it, and it didn't seem she'd changed in this one either.

'That's why...'

She isolated herself, making enemies of those around her.

It was as if she were opening the door wide for the Archbishop of Pride to move in.

"Now, now, everyone, let's calm down."

At that moment, an old man stepped out to smooth over the tense atmosphere.

An elderly man in immaculate white priestly robes, with a benevolent demeanor.

He was holding a platinum-ornamented staff.

"These men, too, are young lambs taking up the sword for the Empire and the will of the gods. Please don't scold them too harshly, lady Veronica."

"Hmph. Since you say so, High Priest Albrecht, I'll endure—for now."

She snorted and turned away.

Albrecht, a high priest of the Empire.

Everyone gazed at him with respectful eyes, but Ian's gaze was different.

'That's the guy.'

Even from this distance, he could smell that sickening scent.

It was masked with a holy fragrance, but Ian's senses weren't fooled.

The stench of blood, rot, and sticky desire.

The pitch-black demonic energy hidden behind that gentle smile.

'Archbishop of Pride.'

He was disguised under the alias Albrecht.

At that moment, Albrecht descended from the platform and began walking toward the mercenaries.

"I shall bless you, you brave souls."

He walked among them, placing his hand on each mercenary and acting as if bestowing a blessing.

Pretending to infuse them with holy power, he was actually engraving the Demon Cult's mark.

'He's tagging the ones he'll use as sacrifices in advance.'

Soon, Albrecht stopped in front of Ian.

Ian acted the part of an ordinary mercenary, bowing his head low.

"Brother."

The Archbishop's gentle voice sounded.

"Your body is truly strong. It seems the Lord has given you a special talent."

The archbishop's hand touched Ian's shoulder.

–Swish.

He felt a trace of demonic energy seeping into his body.

A probe.

A trick to check whether Ian was just a lump of muscle or a potentially dangerous anomaly.

'...'

Ian acted unconcerned.

He naturally let the demonic energy pass through, just like an empty vessel with no resistance or reaction.

"Thank you, high priest."

"..."

Albrecht's eyes narrowed.

He didn't detect any resistance or abnormalities in Ian's body.

Just a big oaf whose magic circuits were all clogged—a typical dull-witted mercenary.

"Hahaha. A reassuring brother indeed."

The archbishop smiled in apparent relief and withdrew his hand.

"May the Lord's blessing be upon you."

He lost interest and moved to the next mercenary.

Ian watched the archbishop's retreating back, a faintly sinister smile on his lips.

'That magic power is packed tight.'

From that brief contact, he'd confirmed it.

The vast, arrogant pool of demonic energy pulsing near the man's heart.

Even among archbishops, it was the kind of massive reservoir only seen in grand heresiarchs.

'A super-sized battery, huh?'

He'd have to lock this guy away in a special single cell in the deepest part of the demonkin containment facility.

* * *

A little while later—

–Bwooooooo!

The ship's horn blared for departure.

"Board! Don't dawdle, get moving!"

Prodded by the imperial soldiers, the mercenaries filed onto the ship.

Ian shifted his greatsword and blended into the crowd.

The harsh waves of the frozen sea.

–Bwooooooo!!

The enormous ship's horn sounded again, and the expedition's vessels left the harbor.

They boarded the Iron Will, a special icebreaker built for hunting the Whale of the Frozen Sea.

Mercenaries grouped up here and there, muttering complaints.

"Damn, it's freezing out here!"

"This northern sea—it's a different beast, even the wind's sharp enough to carve your bones."

They shivered in their thick leather coats.

But Ian, wearing only a few rough pieces of plate armor over thin clothes, leaned against the railing, facing the cold sea wind head on.

"Hey, big guy. Aren't you cold?"

One mercenary, his breath white in the air, asked.

Without turning his head, Ian replied sullenly, "I run hot."

"Huh, you got a furnace in your guts? Or is it just because those muscles are so thick?"

The mercenary clicked his tongue in disbelief, but Ian paid him no mind.

'The tension in the air is thick.'

What drew his focus was the atmosphere around the upper deck's guest quarters.

There was a charged current between the imperial officers and Veronica.

They saw each other not as comrades but as potential enemies, ready to draw swords at any moment.

"Hmph."

Veronica gripped the railing, staring down at the sea.

"Just look at the state of this ship. There isn't a joint on it that isn't rusted."

Even though the imperial officers nearby could hear her, she went on complaining without a care.

"Trying to cross the frozen sea in this scrap heap. Is the Empire's shipbuilding technology supposed to be so great? What a joke—this is appallingly amateur."

The imperial officers' faces turned to stone.

Their expressions even flickered with a hint of murderous intent.

'Ha... Veronica. You really do have a gift for making enemies.'

Ian clicked his tongue to himself.

That arrogance was a shield she'd built to protect her pride, since she stood out the least among her siblings—but it was also her greatest weakness.

She must have known how many inside the imperial army resented her, yet she continued to provoke them in public like this.

It was almost as if she were advertising, 'Go on, stab me in the back and isolate me.'

And of course, there was no way the cunning old hyena would let this opportunity slip by.

"My lady, let your anger subside."

Albrecht, the Archbishop of Pride, approached her.

Wearing a gentle smile, he waved the imperial officers away with a glance.

"I've been offering prayers to ease your concerns, my lady. The Lord will surely watch over your safety as well."

"Hmph. I appreciate your prayers, High Priest, but prayer alone won't make the ship any sturdier."

Veronica still had a frosty attitude, but because the archbishop remained unfailingly polite, she couldn't insult him outright.

Feigning deference, the archbishop cast his eyes toward her shadow.

–Rmmmmm...

For a split second, his pupils slit vertically like a serpent's, and a sinister demonic energy radiated out.

It was so brief that neither Veronica nor her knights noticed.

But Ian didn't miss it.

'That guy's making his move.'

A faint black vapor issued from the archbishop's fingertips, seeping into Veronica's shadow.

A marker—for tracking and surveillance.

A faint smile curled Ian's lips.

'Go ahead and show off as much as you like. You're already in the palm of my hand.'

Ian turned his gaze back to the dark blue sea.

The ship was entering the deeper frozen sea, the 'Black Ice' zone.

–Crack! Crash!

The waves grew higher, and ice floes began to slam into the hull with heavy thuds.

"All hands to stations! This is a monster zone!"

With the captain's shout, tension swept over everyone.

Soon, they'd make their move.

An isolation scheme, hidden, amid chaos.

A hunt to take place in that chaos.

Ian tapped the hilt of the massive greatsword strapped to his back.

From inside the subspace, Vladiark was quivering, licking its lips like a starved beast.

'Soon.'

The time for the hunt was drawing near.