Chapter 131: The Lone King (2)
[A/N: Just for a reminder... Above Origin Star holders have Fine Innate powers.]
After the chieftain fell, the horde kept going, and so did Melvin.
CRACCCCKKKLEEEEE!!!!!
Storm Dragons dove from the low clouds, lightning already gathering between their claws.
Three of them struck at once, bolts thick as tree trunks screaming toward Melvin’s position on the frozen ground.
[Silent End’s Whisper (Origin]
HUMMMMM!!!!!
Melvin raised the Eternal Blade of Frost.
A quiet, almost reverent wave rippled outward, and the lightning fizzled out mid-air as the dragons’ wings locked rigid under the abrupt, bone-deep chill.
One made a desperate attempt to pull away, but Melvin was already in motion.
He launched from the snow in a single explosive step.
His battle style, Winter’s Edge, carried him upward in a flowing, ruthless ascent. His boot found the first dragon’s scaled shoulder.
Then... the Eternal Blade flashed once—
SHKKKKK!!!!!
—harvesting the creature’s momentum and life in the same cut.
Before the body could begin to fall, Melvin used the stolen force to spring higher, landing on the second dragon’s back as it thrashed.
Then.... with another clean stroke.
SHHKKKKK!!!!!
The second dragon turned completely solid as it fell from the skies.
And Melvin was already leaping again, climbing the sky itself through the bodies of his enemies.
The third dragon twisted and managed a desperate claw swipe that scored Melvin’s shoulder, drawing blood that froze instantly against his skin.
And.... he did not flinch.
[Crystallizing Intent (Origin)]
HUMMMM!!!!!
In that instant, he called upon the depths of his innate power and froze the dragon’s next movement mid-action.
As its massive neck locked....
Melvin landed lightly upon it, the wind rushing past his cold face as he gripped the hilt of the Eternal Blade of Frost and, with one decisive motion, drove it downward in a final, unyielding strike—
SHKK!!!!!!
The dragon’s life ended in a single, quiet crystallization of flesh and scale.
Melvin remained suspended in the freezing air for a long moment, the Eternal Blade humming softly in his hand.
Below and above him, the battlefield still raged.
Storm Dragons wheeled through the low clouds in furious arcs.
Barbarian warbands surged across the snow-choked plains in endless waves, their war cries raw and defiant even as the cold deepened around them.
He looked out across it all with the same impassive expression he had worn for three unbroken years.
Then he spoke, voice low and almost gentle against the howling wind.
"By my authority as the God of Eternal Winters..."
[Decree of Frozen Decay (Stellar)]
HUMMMMMM!!!!!
"...all life essence belonging to those weaker than me shall drain."
The Stellar Decree settled over the land like a final law.
At the same moment, Melvin reached into his inventory and drew forth the Dreamer’s Mask.
He slipped it over his face without a second thought, and as soon as the mask was in place, something about him shifted.
He became something quieter, colder, and far more absolute—a literal ghost of Death moving through the battlefield.
He simply... leaned forward and free-fell from the sky.
For more than eight thousand kilometers in every direction, life began to end.
Vitality froze in the veins of both Barbarians and Storm Dragons.
Their strength turned to stillness, and the will to live ebbed away like warmth fading from a lifeless body.
Instantly, warriors mid-charge locked in place and toppled as perfect sculptures of ice.
Dragons’ mid-flight stiffened and plummeted, their lightning dying in their throats.
Even the two Star Union existences present on the battlefield—beings who should have been able to resist—found their power slowing, their movements turning sluggish, their life force crystallizing under the quiet, inevitable authority of the Decree and the masked figure who walked among them.
And.... when hours passed.
When the last echoes of battle finally faded, the plains of the eastern border had become another vast graveyard of frozen bodies, the latest addition to the silent resume Melvin had been writing for three years.
Snow continued to fall in soft, endless curtains, slowly covering the evidence of the slaughter beneath clean white layers.
Melvin removed the Dreamer’s Mask; the Eternal Blade of Frost still resting loosely in his hand, and began the long walk back toward the Kingdom of Blackwood through the absolute eternal winter he had created.
----
Melvin stepped through the outer gates of the Kingdom of Blackwood and came to a complete stop.
Snow drifted around him in gentle, endless drops.
The Eternal Blade of Frost hung loosely at his side, still humming softly after the day’s carnage.
For a long while he stood there, cold eyes fixed on the empty streets and silent towers that had once been filled with life.
Then... memories surfaced unbidden.
He saw himself as a boy racing through these same courtyards, laughter bouncing off the stone walls as his mother chased him with a practice sword.
He recalled his father’s firm hand on his shoulder the day he first gripped a real blade, the quiet pride in his voice as he said Melvin would one day surpass them all.
Now it was all gone, stolen by the schemes of the Loria Kingdom.
Then... the same unshakable vow rose in his chest, colder than any power he had ever wielded.
’In due time... I will drag every last one of them into the deepest abyss.’
As he started walking, the kingdom lay around him like a tomb of silence.
No footsteps echoed but his own, no voices broke the stillness, and no smoke curled from the chimneys.
Snow had claimed the rooftops and the once-busy market squares.
----
He entered the throne room without ceremony.
The great doors closed behind him with a soft, final echo. He crossed the long hall, sat upon the cold stone throne, and rested both hands on the Eternal Blade of Frost laid across his lap.
Through the high window directly ahead, the distant border remained visible—a pale, frozen line against the horizon where the next invasion would eventually come.
He kept his gaze fixed, unblinking, as if locked in a silent standoff.
Moments slipped by, each one stretching longer than the last.
Then, almost imperceptibly at first, the air seemed to change, carrying with it a subtle shift that made everything feel different.
Luna and Yume appeared near the base of the throne dais as if they had always been standing there.
Luna’s soft chuckle broke the heavy silence first.
"Little Melvin... Is this what you do all the time since you left Dreamer’s Peak?" she asked, pink-and-purple hair swaying as she tilted her head.
In that moment, Melvin’s eyes narrowed.
He sensed Yume’s presence, though her cooler, more mature vibe and the blue streaks in her hair made it take a moment to click.
Luna, on the other hand, was even harder to make out—just a faint, rough outline stood where she was, as if the old gap in power still kept part of her hidden from him.
Not to mention, he had never actually seen her before... only knowing she existed because of Number One.
"...Mistresses?" he asked, voice low and uncertain.
Both women nodded, quiet amusement flickering across their faces.
Melvin’s gaze moved past them, searching the empty throne room.
"Where is Master?"
"He is undergoing a small change," Yume answered, her tone calm and even. "He will be around perhaps in a few months... or years."
Hearing this, Melvin gave a single nod, his gaze drifting back to the distant border beyond the window.
"It seems like he’s always... changing," he said, no longer surprised that Akasha was evolving.
"Do you have any tasks for me?" he asked, noticing they were only inspecting the throne room.
Yume shook her head.
"We just wanted to check in on you."
They turned to leave as swiftly as they had arrived, but Luna paused at the threshold, glancing back, her voice carrying a rare note of quiet wisdom.
"The Kingdom of Blackwood cannot... be considered a kingdom with only a King, Melvin."
For the briefest moment, his cold composure cracked.
He exhaled slowly, the breath turning to ice crystals in the still air, then fixed his gaze once more on the frozen border where the next enemies would eventually appear.
The two women vanished, leaving him alone again in the silent throne room of a kingdom that had become little more than a beautiful, empty tomb of winter.