Morning arrived with a crisp chill in the air, the lingering cold of the northern plains settling over their temporary camp.
The sky was a pale, icy blue, with the first golden rays of sunlight spilling over the horizon, casting long shadows against the snow-covered ground.
Inside the modest tent, warmth filled the space—not from the fire burning steadily in the corner, but from the presence of a man and his daughter.
Callian stood near the wooden stove, his coat discarded, replaced by a simple apron tied around his waist.
He exhaled slowly, cooling himself after spending the morning preparing breakfast. He had made something warm and hearty—soft bread, thick stew, and warm milk sweetened just enough for a certain picky eater.
Seated at the small wooden table, Violet obediently ate her meal, small hands carefully lifting the spoon to her mouth.
She was the very image of a well-behaved young lady.
Calm. Quiet. Diligent.
Her silver hair was neatly brushed, her cheeks slightly flushed from the warmth of the tent. She took each bite with a delicate, focused expression, completely unaware of the way her father was watching her with overwhelming adoration.
Callian finally couldn't hold back.
He reached over and cupped her tiny cheeks, rubbing them gently with his calloused hands.
Violet let out a soft, startled sound, spoon stopping mid-air as her father squished her face dotingly.
"Ahhh, my beloved little one. How can you be so cute?" Callian murmured, his golden eyes practically glowing with affection.
Violet, not amused, simply blinked at him, completely unimpressed.
"Papa." Her voice was flat.
Callian, grinning, ignored the warning in her tone and continued rubbing her cheeks, feeling the softness of her round face.
"So soft, so precious, my dear Violet."
Violet sighed, deeply, as if she had long accepted that her father was a hopeless case.
Outside, just beyond the thin fabric of the tent, a group of knights stood frozen.
Yesterday, they had witnessed Callian single-handedly turn the northern plains into his personal playground.
The sheer dominance.
The overwhelming presence.
The way he exuded a monarch's authority with every step.
The terrifying ease with which he faced danger.
And now… this?
The same man who had made their knees tremble just a few hours ago was now sitting inside a tent, squishing his daughter's cheeks like she was a plush toy.
The contrast was too much.
The knights exchanged glances, expressions torn between disbelief and something close to second-hand embarrassment.
One of them, George—a more experienced knight among the recruits—ran a hand over his face, exhaling.
"I… I don't understand this man."
The others nodded in silent agreement.
Callian, oblivious to their internal crisis, finally released Violet's cheeks, only to immediately pull her into a hug.
Wrapped in a thick fur jacket, Violet was nothing more than a round ball of warmth, and Callian held her tightly against his chest, rubbing his cheek against her hair.
"Too cute. My daughter is too cute."
Violet, stuck in his hold, let out a small, tired sigh.
Sebastian, who had been watching this display from the side, looked like he was suffering on a spiritual level.
The once-demonic beast of the Forest of Death, now forced into a butler's role, rubbed his temples as if the sight of this doting father was physically painful to him.
Callian finally set Violet down, though not without planting a soft kiss on her forehead.
"Now then," he said, stretching. "Time to get started."
The knights straightened at his words, glancing at each other nervously.
Started?
Did he mean…?
George hesitated before stepping forward. "Sir Callian, if you're talking about hunting, I strongly advise against going alone. The northern plains are dangerous—"
Callian raised a brow, amused. "It's fine."
George frowned. "But—"
"Just look after my daughter," Callian interrupted, adjusting his coat. "That's more important."
George blinked, momentarily thrown off. "That's… not a problem, but…"
He trailed off when he saw Callian's relaxed expression.
This wasn't arrogance.
This wasn't recklessness.
Callian simply didn't consider the hunt dangerous.
Because to him… it wasn't.
Before George could argue further, Callian turned to Violet and knelt down to her level. "Be good while I'm gone, alright?"
Violet puffed out her cheeks slightly. "I'm always good."
Callian chuckled, ruffling her silver hair. "That's true. But still, stay close to Sebastian, okay?"
At the mention of his name, Sebastian let out a soft groan of protest. "Must I truly be a babysitter?"
Violet tilted her head at him. "You're not a babysitter, Sebastian. You're my fluffy butler."
Sebastian looked personally offended.
Callian smirked. "A butler's duty includes protecting their young mistress, doesn't it?"
Sebastian's jaw tightened. "I was once feared as the ruler of the southern abyss."
"And now you're a beloved companion to my daughter. What a glorious promotion."
Sebastian's eye twitched.
Violet giggled, poking Sebastian's sleeve. "You're the best, Sebastian."
Sebastian sighed deeply, before begrudgingly bowing his head. "As you wish, Mistress."
George, who had been watching this entire exchange, felt a headache forming.
This was absurd.
But it was also strangely… normal.
For all the terrifying strength Callian possessed, he was undeniably human in the way he loved his daughter.
*****
The northern plains stretched endlessly before him. A vast, frozen expanse of white, broken only by jagged cliffs and clusters of skeletal trees. The wind howled, sharp and merciless, cutting through the air like a blade.
Most would hesitate to step foot in this place.
Most would die if they did.
Callian adjusted the fur-lined coat draped over his shoulders, his breath visible in the freezing air. His boots crunched against the thick snow as he walked, his golden eyes scanning the horizon.
He was alone.
Just how he preferred it when dealing with tedious work like this.
[ Quest Progress ]
Hunt monsters of the northern plains (845/2000)
Hunt the Kings of the northern plains (0/10)
His lips quirked slightly. A slow, relaxed smile.
He still had a long way to go.
"Well, let's get this over with."
With a flick of his wrist, Callian adjusted his gloves, flexing his fingers. The weight of his sword rested comfortably at his hip.
The cold never bothered him much—not with the sheer amount of mana humming beneath his skin, keeping his body temperature stable.
A low growl echoed in the distance.
Callian turned his head slightly, already sensing movement from the shadows of the trees.
Ah. There they are.
Massive figures emerged, crawling out from the snowdrifts and ice-covered hills.
Frostfang Beasts.
Their bodies were covered in thick, silver-white fur, their eyes glowing a dull blue, tusks curving wickedly from their snarling mouths.
Each of them stood over three meters tall, their limbs powerful enough to crush a man with a single swipe.
Callian rolled his shoulders, exhaling lightly.
Five of them.
A decent warm-up.
The first beast lunged.
Callian didn't move—not until the last second, when he shifted his foot and twisted his body.
The creature's massive claws slashed through the air, missing him by an inch.
With an almost lazy motion, Callian drew his sword.
A single step forward.
A clean slash.
The air split apart as his blade cut effortlessly through the Frostfang's thick fur, slicing from shoulder to hip in one smooth motion.
Blood sprayed against the snow.
The beast collapsed before it even realized it was dead.
Silence.
The other Frostfangs froze, their glowing eyes locking onto Callian.
A slow realization settled over them—an instinctive, primal fear.
This human was not prey.
He was a predator.
The hesitation didn't last long. The beasts were still monsters, driven by hunger and territorial rage.
They charged.
Callian moved.
His sword flashed in the cold light, faster than the eye could follow.
A second beast lunged, jaws wide.
Callian's free hand shot out, grabbing it by the throat.
With effortless strength, he lifted the creature into the air. The Frostfang thrashed, kicking up snow, but Callian barely seemed to notice the weight.
"You're struggling too much," he mused. "It's annoying."
He tightened his grip.
A sickening crack filled the air.
The monster went limp.
Callian tossed the corpse aside like it was nothing, already stepping forward to meet the next attacker.
A claw came for his side.
He tilted his head, dodging, and drove his knee into the creature's ribs.
Crack.
The beast let out a strangled yelp, staggering back.
Callian didn't give it a chance to recover.
He swung his blade—and the monster's head separated from its body in an instant.
Three down.
The last two hesitated now, instinct warring with their hunger.
Callian exhaled.
Then, with a soft whisper of mana, he vanished.
Windless Footstep.
Before the monsters could react, he reappeared right behind them.
One clean motion.
One clean cut.
Two bodies hit the ground at the same time, their severed heads rolling a moment later.
Callian sighed, sheathing his sword with a soft click.
"That's five more."
He glanced at the quest screen.
[ Quest Progress – 850/2000 ]
Still too slow.
Callian exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.
Maybe I should pick up the pace.
As if answering his thoughts, a deep, rumbling roar echoed across the plains.
Callian turned his head, watching as the snow shook, something massive moving in the distance.
His golden eyes narrowed.
A King.
Finally.
It didn't take long for the monster to emerge.
A towering figure of ice and stone, standing over ten meters tall. Its body was a mixture of hardened rock and frozen armor, thick icicles jutting from its shoulders like jagged spikes.
Two burning, eyes glowed beneath its heavy brow, locked onto Callian.
The Frost Titan.
One of the ten rulers of the northern plains.
Callian smiled.
"This should be fun."
The Titan moved.
The ground shook.
Callian's body tensed as the beast raised a colossal fist—and brought it down with enough force to shatter mountains.
BOOM.
Snow exploded in every direction.
But Callian was already gone.
He reappeared at the Titan's side, dashing up its massive arm like it was solid ground.
A flicker of golden light.
His sword gleamed.
SLASH.
A deep cut tore across the Titan's shoulder, sending shards of ice flying.
The beast roared in pain, twisting to shake him off.
Callian jumped, flipping through the air, landing on a crumbling outcrop of rock. He watched as the Titan staggered, gripping its wounded arm.
"Not bad," he mused. "But too slow."
The Titan's eyes flared with fury. It lifted both arms—and the air itself began to freeze.
Callian's breath came out in white mist.
A storm of ice and frost formed above them, raw mana gathering in the Titan's palms.
A spell?
Callian's eyes flickered with amusement.
"Fine. Let's play."
The Titan threw the blizzard forward.
A massive wave of ice, sharp as knives, surged toward him, threatening to bury him alive.
Callian charged straight into it.
BOOM.
The world turned white.
For a moment, silence.
Then—
A golden light split the storm apart.
A single, blinding arc.
When the snow settled, Callian stood untouched in the center of the devastation, sword still humming with energy.
The Titan stared.
Callian smiled. "My turn."
In an instant, he vanished.
Windless Footstep.
Reappearing right in front of the Titan's chest.
His blade glowed.
Then—
He struck.
One powerful slash.
A vertical line split the Titan's body in half.
The monster let out one last, strangled roar—before it collapsed, its form breaking apart into nothing but shattered ice.
Then, a soft ding.
[ Quest Progress – 1/10 Kings Defeated ]
Callian exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
"Alright. One down."
He cracked his neck, turning his gaze toward the horizon.
Nine more to go.