Lord of Caldera

Some of the other candidates burst into laughter at the sharp insult, while Karl's face turned a furious shade of red.

"How dare you!"

"Quiet. 'How dare you,' you say, while whining for someone to feed you? If you're a Northern man, stop showing such disgrace."

Karl's clenched fist trembled, but he restrained himself. He knew better than to draw his sword in a situation like this. With a scoff, Ragnar addressed the candidates.

"If you aim to be king, stand alone. Cross the snowfields and slay the dragon without anyone's help. Only then will your accomplishment and authority be your own."

As Ragnar's words concluded, the candidates began to disperse. The hunt had officially begun.

"Master, please take care," Bjorn said.

"Focus on your own fight. I'll manage," Sylas replied, parting ways after one last conversation with Bjorn. As he moved forward, studying the map, he felt the chill in the air grow more intense.

Drawing his enchanted sword, he spoke a command, "Heat."

"Yes, my master…" the sword replied promptly.

It was a familiar routine by now. Despite being wielded as little more than a hand warmer, the sword obeyed without question.

Sylas held his sword, letting its warmth seep in as he pondered. Dragons… let's see how well my immunity holds.

He was confident the Hydra's venom wouldn't affect him, but the massive creature's size and sharp fangs posed other risks. Any lapse in focus, and he could be torn apart by its many heads.

The problem is that I still don't fully understand my own strength.

Sylas knew he had grown stronger but wasn't sure just how much. Against humans, he'd undoubtedly overpower them with ease. But a massive monster? A formidable dragon?

"This is as good a time as any to find out."

The snowfields held dangers beyond dragons; he knew the journey to the lair would involve more than one battle. Sylas could avoid them if he stuck to safer routes, but he preferred a direct confrontation to gauge his true power.

Suddenly, a roar echoed across the landscape.

"Well, speak of the devil," Sylas muttered with a grin, glancing toward the source. Approaching through the snow was a creature with a bluish-green hue to its skin—a Frost Troll.

Frost Trolls, he thought. A subspecies adapted to the snowfields, weaker to heat than ordinary trolls but boasting even greater physical strength and resilience.

"This is convenient."

The Frost Troll, initially grinning at the sight of its prey, tilted its head in confusion, sensing something unusual in Sylas's relaxed demeanor.

But it didn't hesitate for long. With a roar, the troll raised its fist, ready to crush him into pulp.

Sylas readied his sword, adopting a stance he'd yet to use in real combat. "The Flame Dragon Sword."

Though he had honed the Fire Dragon Sword in his past life, he had never fully grown accustomed to the Flame Dragon Sword in this one. But things had changed. With his awakened ancient bloodline, he was now capable of wielding the Flame Dragon Sword—a style developed specifically for awakened warriors of the ancient bloodline.

Let's see how this goes.

Focusing on the troll's raised fist, Sylas shifted his stance, wielding the sword as he had been taught—fast and forceful, not slowing down as he had during practice.

With a powerful step, he swung his sword just as he'd trained.

Swoosh!

"...!"

The troll's upper body was sliced apart, blood staining the snow. It stumbled and fell backward, defeated. Sylas looked down at the fallen creature in disbelief.

"What… was that?"

The sheer power stunned him. Neither Toby nor Ray had ever unleashed such force.

Even those two had to run up close to strike down their foes, he thought.

But his sword was different now. Even without igniting a single flame, the moment he'd swung, a razor-sharp shockwave shredded the Frost Troll from a distance.

"This is insane."

In a world where sword auras didn't exist, he had essentially just created one. He wondered what would happen if he sparred with Toby or Ray now. After a moment's thought, he shook his head.

I'd probably kill them if I lost control.

This swordsmanship, which he himself struggled to control, surpassed anything he'd ever seen. He felt confident he could even hold his own against a real dragon.

Maybe this will be easier than I thought, he mused, eyes glinting as he looked toward the direction of the Hydra's lair.

"From here on, sustain yourself until the dragon is hunted."

Ragnar's decree had left several nobles and candidates visibly unsettled, yet it was, in truth, only natural. After all, what hero of legend had ever dragged along attendants to leisurely assist in slaying monsters? On the contrary, most epic journeys were fraught with trials and suffering. Surviving the harsh landscape of the snowfields without assistance was only the start. For two candidates unaccustomed to hardship, the path ahead would be challenging.

But Sylas was not like them.

Rolling a sharp stone between his fingers, Sylas examined the makeshift arrowhead he had crafted from a suitable rock he'd found on the ground. Though hastily made, it was sharp enough to be effective. Just then, he noticed a subtle movement from the corner of his eye.

"Here goes."

With no hesitation, he hurled the stone. Enhanced by his superhuman strength, it flew like a bullet.

Thwack.

A shrill squeal filled the air as the animal collapsed, struck dead-center. It didn't even get the chance to flee.

"Well, looks like pork for breakfast."

Dragging back a white boar, roughly the size of a large dog and adapted to the snowfields, Sylas proceeded to skin and clean it with practiced ease.

"This brings back memories."

Sylas was no stranger to this work, having lived the life of a hunter in his youth. Honestly, even without his awakened bloodline, he would have no trouble surviving alone in these frozen wastes. With his newfound strength, the task was even simpler. Find exclusive stories on My Virtual Library Empire

Using his enchanted sword, Sylas placed the meat on its surface.

"Fire."

"At once, Master."

The sword ignited instantly, flames adjusting precisely to roast the meat through. With a dash of seasoning, Sylas began to eat, finding the meal surprisingly satisfying for a camp-cooked breakfast.

Still no progress on controlling the Flame Sword techniques, he thought, somewhat frustrated.