Chapter 18: Frost Ghost

Although the sun had already set, thanks to the street vendors and the lights set up all around, Saruteges was glowing far more brilliantly than in broad daylight.

Countless tourists and private collectors were bustling around the stalls and tents.

I was a little worried about the box behind me that held Pels, given the crowd brushing past us.

But it was hidden among the barrels and locked up, so stealing it wouldn’t be easy.

“Alright, once we get out of here, I’ll lighten your load, so let’s hurry.”

I wasn’t sure if it understood me, but the horse started walking a bit faster at my encouragement.

The crowd, in turn, quickly made way for the cart and my words.

“Come, come! Everything must go!”

“I’m heading home in a hurry due to personal circumstances—selling it all cheap!”

My eyes were drawn to a few of the stalls here and there.

To be honest, after occupying Denatel’s space, there wasn’t anything that could genuinely pique my interest anymore, but memories from childhood seemed to beckon me down, hand outstretched.

Those memories were warm, and joyful.

And also, never to be felt again.

But that was entirely my fault.

By the time we were nearly at the far end of Saruteges, there were no more stalls or people in sight.

Only trash left behind by those who had already left, and broken wooden crates rolling around.

A few lights stood in the distance, but most of them were off.

I had intentionally come this way, away from the main road, but aside from the paved parts, the outskirts of Saruteges were mostly like this.

Then again, who would carry out trash after traveling such long distances?

There were always few who did.

After Amusbian ends, the large merchant groups would come through and clean up, and some people would specifically collect abandoned goods like these to repurpose them.

But still, it was hard not to frown at the sight.

“And then there are the damn flies.”

With a light gesture, I conjured a red flame and hurled it into the darkness.

“If you’re going to hide, hide properly. Or if you think it’s deserted, show yourself quickly.”

The flame hit the ground, briefly banishing the darkness.

And there, a dozen or so men emerged from behind the trash and crates.

Among them was a familiar face.

“Krugle, was it? You’re a real pain to the end.”

He frowned at my words but otherwise showed no significant reaction.

Judging by where he stood and the atmosphere, it didn’t seem like he was leading the group.

He’d probably just been called in as one of the lackeys.

As the flame I’d thrown began to die out, they pulled out kindling from their coats and started lighting torches one by one.

The men all looked the same—rough faces, bulky builds, matching scars.

The kind you’d expect to see loitering in back alleys or cheap taverns.

Rather than intimidating, their appearance was so stereotypical it was almost laughable.

How did they manage to gather only guys like this?

“Quite relaxed for someone in your situation, aren’t you?”

Only one man stood out from the rest.

A middle-aged man with a mustache, wearing an old-fashioned suit.

He looked more like a retired scholar than someone who belonged in this situation.

“Are you the ringleader?”

I didn’t like wasting time, but I was also curious.

What could possibly warrant this?

Krugle was on a blacklist, sure, but he was just a low-ranking thug at best.

It wasn’t like I’d ruined some huge deal.

At most, I’d prevented them from stealing two horses.

They probably knew by now that I’d sold all the horses.

If they were after the money from that, I could at least understand.

But to come at me like this, with so many people, just for that?

It made no sense—unless one of them was hiding some truly formidable power?

“You certainly act like someone who claims to be a companion of the Hero.”

…Ah, I see.

So that’s what this is.

It’s not that they have some special plan or confidence.

They just simply don’t believe it.

“…Ha.”

A sigh escaped me as I felt the strength drain from my body.

Could this be why the upper trading company hadn’t reacted much either?

“I don’t know how you managed to deceive the Kruze Guild, but your nerve is impressive. Pretending to be one of the Hero’s companions, no less.”

It seemed they misinterpreted my reaction.

But once they’d decided that I was a fraud, anything I said would just confirm their assumptions.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Sokren. I run a small business in Amusbian.”

Yeah, perhaps this was to be expected.

Even when I was next to Lowell and the others, there were still people who looked at me with doubt.

“Seeing your boldness and skills, I thought perhaps you’d be interested in going into business with us.”

There are far more regions where my name or title isn’t known than where it is.

Which means, if someone drops my name and says I’m a companion of the Hero, chances are they’ll be seen as a liar.

“Of course, I’m not asking to split the earnings from earlier. Just that you cooperate with us in future trades or ventures involving Kruze or other companies.”

How could I blame them?

It just meant I hadn’t done enough to be recognized.

Yes, I had to understand.

“If you do that, we’d be happy to share profits—and we may even be able to assist you as well.”

Right.

What wrong did they really commit?

It was all my own failing.

But still…

“Why does this piss me off so much?”

“Excuse me? What did you say?”

Luckily—or unluckily—no one had caught my muttering.

“…Nothing. Just asking, but what would you do if I said no?”

Please choose your words wisely.

Everyone’s fate here hinges on it.

“It wouldn’t be a problem, really. But since we did suffer a bit of a loss today, we’d appreciate a token of goodwill in return for our silence.”

A few men behind him pulled out daggers and started spinning them theatrically in their hands, though some dropped them clumsily to the ground.

Trying to act tough, I suppose.

“Well, we wouldn’t kill you or anything.”

“Huh? Oh! Don’t worry! We wouldn’t go as far as murder.”

The way he said it—so confident yet clueless—was almost pitiful.

Yes, they were just petty criminals.

At most, they probably stole lost items or hiked up prices before reselling things.

They hadn’t intended to kill, so I didn’t need to either.

“…Has anyone here ever heard of the Deceiver of Summons? Or the Nightmare of Orsia Hill? Or Disturber of Balance? Any companion of the Hero, really?”

They seemed unsure of the question, glancing around.

After a moment of awkward silence, a few hesitantly raised their hands.

“Three of you. That’s just depressing.”

I raised my hand and etched runes in the air—symbols for dimension and spirit.

It was risky to do this without a newly layered, mounted barrier, especially after yesterday.

But surely, not these people.

As expected, they didn’t understand what I was doing—not even as the ritual was underway.

By the time they realized something was wrong, the space around me was already tearing open in a burst of blue light.

A rift glowing blue, like a massive claw mark slashing through the air, opened up in the sky, and from that tear, a blinding white cold poured out.

“But well, starting today, the number will probably increase, right?”

“W-what…?”

“T-this is!”

The white cold spread like fog, engulfing the surroundings, and the brief commotion was swallowed into a heavy silence.

“You can raise your voice all you want. Well, not that they’d hear this anyway.”

This cold wasn’t just cold.

It was the atmosphere of Niflheim, wrapped in the icy wall of oblivion beyond time.

In this air that devours even the laments of the most pitiful souls, one cannot see even an inch ahead, nor hear any sound.

There is only heavy, oppressive silence.

I hate this silence, too.

I hate this feeling where I can’t even hear my own breathing or heartbeat.

That’s why, although I usually don’t summon them unless absolutely necessary, in a situation like this where attracting attention would be a disadvantage, they were the perfect choice.

As I strengthened the soul connection, the will and senses of the summoned creatures flowed into me.

Gliding through the icy air like they were swimming, precisely surrounding their targets — they were Frost Ghosts, the sorrowful dead who could not leave Niflheim, and devourers of the warmth of life.

I too couldn’t see or hear anything in this cold, but the sensory link with the Frost Ghosts told me far more than sight or sound ever could.

Sokren and the others, startled by the sudden situation, were panicking in confusion.

The only saving grace for them was that no one had lost their mind and started swinging a weapon in fear.

In a place where there’s no visibility and no sound, with many people packed together, even a single wrong move can wipe out an entire force.

In fact, I had once wiped out over 300 soldiers with just that much chaos.

Of course, that doesn’t mean they’re calmly staying still because they understand the situation.

More likely, the unfamiliar sensations and overwhelming helplessness are simply stopping them from even trying to act.

–Bind their bodies.

A single command was all it took.

The Frost Ghosts descended on the men, and their pale hands overlapped directly over their enemies’ hearts.

The cold seeped into their bodies and souls, and they froze right where they stood.

Of course, despite the cold, their bodies hadn’t physically frozen.

They were still breathing, and their hearts were still pumping blood throughout their bodies.

But their souls had frozen, and so their bodies could no longer respond.

“Well, I could just leave things as they are…”

If I were to simply dismiss the Frost Ghosts now, that would be the end.

At most, the enemies would remain frozen for about an hour and then wake up again.

But if that happened, they wouldn’t even know what had happened to them.

So I raised my magical power and further strengthened the soul synchronization with the Frost Ghosts.

My will became theirs, and naturally, I was connected to the victims through them as well.

Complex conversations were difficult, but at the very least, I could convey my intentions.

–From this day forth, remember clearly the name Anak, companion of the Hero.

I imprinted those words directly into their souls.

Etched like a scratch across the surface of ice, those words would echo through their frozen souls until they awoke, and for at least several days, they wouldn’t be able to forget — even if they wanted to.

Sigh.

I dismissed the Frost Ghosts and closed the rift.

The cold that had filled the area quickly vanished.

Now, the only things remaining in this darkness were the trash left behind by others… and Sokren’s group, standing frozen in place.