Raising the Northern Grand Duchy as a Max-Level All-Master

Chapter 117.2



Closing her eyes, Arina steadied herself.

She could hear the urgent voices of the knights.

“The necromancer is up there!”

 “Can we use the magic communicator?”

 “Contact the barrier now! Call for priests and request support from a superhuman!”

 “Hold the line! We must endure!”

The battlefield was overrun with undead, elite northern orcs, elite druid warriors, and a necromancer in the azure sky, clearly a high-ranking entity.

If this continued, the battle would end swiftly—with Renslet’s utter defeat.

“…”

In that desperate moment, perhaps because of her overheated mana core and heart, Arina noticed the world slowing down.

[Arina, my beloved daughter, pride of Renslet.]

Mother…

She heard the faint voice of her mother, Mary, whose memory had long since grown hazy.

[Arina, you have the potential to reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship—the Grand Sword Master, a step beyond Sword Master.]

Father…

Her father, Baikal, had often spoken those words during her training.

[I long to see you reach that realm.]

Arina opened her eyes.

With deepened focus, her gaze fell upon the factory where Arad was.

No druids had emerged yet, suggesting they were barely holding on inside.

This meant she had one chance—to eliminate all the enemies in a single strike.

“Renslet… Rune… Renslet.”

Closing her eyes again, Arina released the boiling energy within her core and heart. 

She let them run wild, surrendering everything to the rampaging forces.

Hoooom—

An intense frost storm erupted around her.

Her pure white hair began to rise as if defying gravity.

The merging of her heart’s mana circle and her core caused an extraordinary reaction—something akin to nuclear fusion in Earthly terms.

“Never use this technique,” Arad had said when she first demonstrated it to him.

“I hope you’ll never need to.”

“I won’t.”

And yet… somehow, I knew I’d end up using it.

She chuckled faintly at the memory.

Swoooosh—

Her transformation was complete.

The brilliant white hue of Mary’s mana and sword aura began to change.

What had once been pure white, like Mary’s hair, shifted to a deep gray, mirroring her eyes.

[Ahhhhhhh…]

At the same time, Arina’s body started to break down.

The delicate balance she had barely maintained was now crumbling.

The three mana circles she had been holding together in her heart multiplied rapidly—four, five, six in an instant.

Hummm—

The sword in her grasp, which had been a gleaming white, absorbed the gray aura, its blade glowing like a condensed beam of light.

[Aaaaargh!]

A scream echoed, like a hallucination, reverberating in her mind.

The source of the sound was the sword she held.

It was only now that she truly understood why Arad had named the weapon Cry of the Snowfield.

Fwoooosh!

An overwhelming burst of freezing energy exploded outward, consuming everything around her.

“Kuhahahaha!”

Isaac’s avatar, watching the scene, couldn’t contain his joy, laughing uncontrollably.

“Now! Now is the moment!”

His eyes gleamed with clarity as he gazed at Arina.

“The curse! The curse is complete!”

A curse planted in the distant past, now reaching its fulfillment—a curse meant to end the Renslet bloodline.

The exclamation point of a powerful, fated curse had just been marked.

Slice—

Even as Isaac’s avatar was shredded by the radiant gray sword aura, his laughter echoed.

***

 

“You seem to have quite a grudge against me.”

I reloaded my magnum, glancing at the druid chieftain, who stood in the form of a massive polar bear.

“Grrrrr…”

The interior of the factory was in complete ruins, with no equipment left intact.

This is… not ideal.

The security and defensive systems I had installed for emergencies had been disabled long ago.

Unlike with Sigma and the dark mage’s earlier attack, these druids were particularly resistant to magic.

Their magic resistance had turned the tide against us.

“Ughhh…”

 “Cough… ack…”

 “…”

It wasn’t just the equipment that had been destroyed.

A significant number of the personnel protecting me were severely injured, now unable to fight.

There were more unconscious bodies sprawled on the ground than those still standing.

At least there aren’t many fatalities… thanks to the emergency healing enchantments in the magical armor.

Had they been wearing ordinary armor, the group would have been wiped out.

Still, their sacrifices weren’t in vain. The druids’ numbers had dwindled significantly, leaving only Nuchka and two others.

“You didn’t survive at the edge of the Manus Mountains for nothing, did you?”

I spoke sincerely, acknowledging the druids before me.

In many ways, the extreme north was harsher than the Devil’s Den.

I had always wondered how humans, especially savage ones who had rejected civilization, could survive in such conditions.

Now, I have my answer.

In the game, druids were so hidden that you’d rarely encounter them.

Seeing such beings in reality—especially as enemies—filled me with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

“Chairman, we’ll create an opening. You must escape!”

The four still capable of fighting—Assistant Director Teo, Eote, Sir Rosie, and Sir Carrot—were determined to ensure my survival.

“Don’t bother. Nuchka’s target has been me and only me from the start.”

I had felt it throughout the battle.

The chieftain’s sole focus was on me.

No matter how much the knights tried to draw his attention, he ignored them, keeping his sights solely on me.

“Tell me, what do you want?”

It was time to stall rather than fight.

Though I had yet to hear the druids speak in a human tongue, I knew they weren’t mindless beasts or monsters. They would understand my words.

“You have committed a grave insult to nature. The greatest insult.”

To my surprise, Nuchka finally spoke in a human language.

Ancient speech?

It was the tongue of the Golden Age, an ancient and long-forgotten dialect.

Being a max-level All-Master who excelled at everything except combat, I understood it perfectly.

“Is it my factory that angered you?”

I responded in the same ancient language, addressing him directly.


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