Dungeon of Niflheim

485 Chapter 485: The birth of a future king

“Rahhhhhhhhhh!!” The fully maddened rindar roared out, spurting copious amounts of blood from its throat as it did. The once indomitable and intelligent monster commander was now nothing but a severely injured and crazed beast with but a single thought remaining, kill.

Frost was knocked back by the rindar’s vicious swipe, his glaive shaft groaning from the unmitigated assault however, he managed to keep his footing, it would take more than that to fell him.

Drip Drip Drip

Blood dripped from the rindar’s body as he tensed up and prepared to charge. Frost’s body also dripped blood but to a lesser degree. His internal injuries were nothing to sneeze at and were beginning to take a tole on him.

His arms and legs were trembling from exhaustion, a state that could be easily perceived if one was paying attention. His last burst of aura and the use of [Claw of the ice wolf] drained most of his last reserves, placing him in real jeopardy.

With his reactions slowed and movements impeded by his injuries Frost struggled to dodge the fervent swipes of the rindar, relying on what was left of his glaive to partially parry the blows and coughing up blood afterwards.

“Why won’t you just die dammit!” Frost bellowed while smashing his glaive’s shaft upon the rindar’s face which seemed to only infuriate him further instead of causing damage.

In retaliation when Frost went for another face smash the eldest rindar grabbed the shaft with his teeth and bit down with incredible force, pinning Frost in place.

Frost instinctively yanked the shaft causing it to move but only slightly.

.....

Don!

“Urgh!” Then suddenly without warning he let out a pained groaned. The rindar’s good arm smashed into his solar plexus when he was distracted.

Frost spat out some dark coloured blood and took multiple unsteady steps backwards, his grip on his glaive releasing.

Grrrrr!

As Frost struggled to catch his breath and was assaulted by waves of pain he could hear the sound of grinding, a sound that caused his heart to tremble.

Grrrrrrrr! Grrrrrrrr! Grrrrrrr!

As the grinding sound became more and more pronounced Frost gazed at the mad rindar in disbelief. The damn monster was attempting to crush what remained of his glaive with its jaw, a feat that would quite frankly be impossible under normal circumstances. Duram is a strong and durable metal and rindars weren’t particularly known for their jaw strength however, the sounds being made alluded that it was only a matter of time.

Grrrrr! Grrrrrrrrrrr! Crunch!

And as expected after a few seconds of unrestrained biting his duram alloy glaive shaft fractured. Two pieces fell to the side while what remained was chewed up and swallowed. A terrifyingly eery smile swiftly followed after the barbaric act.

Blood, broken teeth and shredded gums were on display, a sight that caused many to involuntarily shiver as they imagined the pain. Frost’s lips twitched as he looked upon this monstrosity that knew no pain nor much intelligence. Who would do something like that just to crush an already broken weapon, complete and utter madness.

“Rahhhhhhhhh!” The rindar roared out in some sort of strange glee, launching bits of his jaw outwards as it did before once again homing in on Frost who now no longer even had a stick to parry it with.

“Fuck!” Frost’s eyes shot wide open, and he leaped to the side narrowly avoiding the rindar’s fist but at the cost of straining his leg muscles.

“Someone give Frost a weapon!” Bagua who was the closest C-rank fighter in the area roared at the top of his lungs but as a cost for splitting his focus he received a clean punch from a yeti, knocking the wind out of him.

However despite that he desperately tried to move in Frost’s direction, preparing to even toss his own weapon to him if need be. The battle could do without him but not without Frost. Thankfully such a sacrifice wasn’t needed.

“Frost lad, catch!” Suddenly the loud bellow of an old man reverberated from the top of the northern wall.

Frost recognised the voice calling him and despite the rindar once again charging his way he looked up, a smile slowly forming on his lips.

Woosh!

Following the old man’s shout a beautiful glaive was launched in his direction, the item he was supposed to catch.

Grip!

Frost stretched out his right arm and caught the flying glaive with elegant grace. It looked as though he called for the weapon, and it flew to his aid.

The moment his fingers wrapped around the glaive’s shaft, Frost felt an instant intense connection, his smile grew, and a glint flashed in his eyes as the eldest rindar entered his field of control.

His trembling limbs, pain and exhaustion seemed to evaporate just for a second, allowing him to grip the new glaive with both hands and slash diagonally in a single smooth motion.

No aura was used nor was any weapon skill utilised yet the force behind his swing was comparable to his mightiest blow. The wind howled as the razor sharp blade cut through the air and arrived before the rindar before he even knew what happened.

Schwing!

With ease the glaive slashed open the eldest rindar from his right shoulder to his left hip. Its momentum not even slowing in the slightest when it met his spine, cutting through it like a hot knife through butter.

Frost stood with his glaive pointing downwards after splitting the rindar in twain, the two pieces of its body flew passed him before crashing into the ground, dyeing the already bloodstained ground with fresh blood.

Silence consumed the northern wall, such a scene, even with the gore was beautiful and they did not want to ruin it with words.

While the onlookers stared in wonder Frost pulled back the glaive and began inspecting it in detail. This was the weapon he had been waiting for.

The blade radiated with a blue light and its composition was very similar to his previous glaive, but it felt purer, as if the materials used were not only forged to perfection but beyond it. The red coloured fired star wood which functioned as the shaft was now giving off a violet luminescence, making it an even better match with the blue pykrete blade. It was the same shaft he’d fought with for so long but it had been treated with something, making it harder, heavier but also even more flexible. The image of the wolf howling at the moon had been re-carved with better artistry and it appeared that the moon was now an inlet for a magic crystal. Finally the duram pommel that gave balance to the glaive and served as a blunt force instrument had been replaced with something higher in quality -the only part that had been completely replaced. It was still of metal origin but since Frost wasn’t a blacksmith he couldn’t tell what type it was just that it was heavier than duram and gave off a natural chill.

As Frost examined his new glaive the life force from the slain rindar flowed into him, reinvigorating his body and lightening his wounds. Feeling this sudden wave of pleasure and dense energy Frost’s entire body tensed and his eyes flashed with a silvery glow. He twirled the new glaive in his hands and summoned his aura naturally.

A dense, heavy and almost chilling pressure emanated from Frost’s body, restricting those in the nearby vicinity, causing them to turn and look his way. There they could see the visage of an elegant knight adorned in white robes, a majestic weapon in his hands and a light surrounding him as he stood upon the corpses of slain monsters. This was an impactful image that affected not just the nearby soldiers and monsters but also the upper ranked elites such as Hamon, Halgrave, Maggie and Douglas standing on the wall.

Each of them suddenly felt the desire to kneel, to bow in Frost’s presence as if he was their king or emperor. His image at this moment had transcended mere power, there was something tangible there, are charisma that Hamon and Douglas had only seen in a very select group of people…..Royalty.

Those who bore the lives of hundreds of thousands or perhaps even millions of people upon their shoulders, the very highest tier of authority among the sapients. Power and strength could be accumulated through rigorous training and even medicines, but royal aura was something one must be born with. Without such an aura a king or queen would not be able to inspire unity and strength within their populace. That’s why they are so fixated with bloodlines. Keeping the line as pure and noble as possible will increase the chances that the royal aura will be passed down.

‘The birth of a future king’ Frost’s aura now held royal authority. It was small and unrefined right now but as he grows so too will his aura, his magnetism, charisma and his attraction to people, others will naturally want to follow such a man.

Douglas and Hamon thought Frost was special, but never did they think he would have royal aura. Their image of him thus jumped a few notches and Hamon’s desire to have him join their frost wolf battalion grew exponentially.

To their side while they were lost in their own thoughts Borris the old blacksmith smiled from ear to ear and nodded his head.

“Looks like we finished just in time, and as promised the brat christened it with the blood of a B-rank monster hahahahahaha!” The old dwarf had slaved over his forge with the aid of his family for the past tens of hours, drawing out every ounce of skill he had to finish the promised product, a 4 star glaive.