Chapter 2: Snow, Chains, and the Final Day

Hans pushed through the blizzard without a second thought.

The northern winds lashed against his body with a bone-chilling cold, yet his stride remained unwavering. No matter how freezing the air became, it meant nothing to him. Hans had only one focus—the success of this mission.

Capturing Olivia Aurelion.

As long as that was achieved, every sacrifice was a price worth paying.

Halfway through his journey, Hans came to a halt.

Before him lay a sight that violated the tranquility of the white snow: corpses, scattered everywhere.

Elves with pointed ears lay frozen and limp. Beastkin, their furred bodies bound in heavy chains, had been abandoned on the frozen earth. There were no signs of meaningful resistance. No traces of a grand battle.

Hans knelt, staring at them with a cold, detached gaze.

The words of the 77th Infantry Commander echoed in his mind.

The Orden der Heiligen Kette. A radical sect convinced that the gods had already chosen a side. That freedom was nothing but an illusion. And that obedience was the ultimate form of faith.

Hans stood back up. He marched forward, indifferent to the biting northern chill. To Hans, this suffering was merely a part of the process. Success here would make his path to the throne far smoother—faster and cleaner than his brother’s.

Some time later, Hans arrived at a small village.

It was silent. Too silent.

Doors hung open. There were no signs of life. However, in one of the houses, the remains of a fire that had only recently died out were visible. This village had just been vacated.

Hans kicked the door open. He lit a fire to warm his body and sat casually on a dust-covered sofa. Amidst the silence, his mind drifted back to his plan.

Once Olivia was taken by the Heiliges Königreich Rabenmark, legitimacy would flow to him naturally. The people would see him as a savior. The Palace would find it impossible to deny his influence.

Without realizing it, Hans drifted off.

In his sleep, he remembered a fact he could never forget: he did not belong to this world. He had once lived in Japan—another world that now felt worlds away.

When the blizzard began to subside, Hans woke up. He threw his jacket back on and resumed his trek.

Soon after, he reached a camp on the edge of a frozen lake. And sure enough—the perimeter was heavily guarded.

Members of the Orden der Heiligen Kette stood watch, clad in black robes and cloaks with hoods concealing their faces. In the center of the camp, they were preparing a sacrificial ritual.

It was then that Hans realized the truth. The corpses he had encountered earlier were victims of this very ritual.

Hans drew his pistol. A silencer was swiftly attached. An UZI SMG sat ready in his other hand.

He stepped out into the open, making no attempt to hide.

"Dammit! Who are you?!" shouted one of the cultists.

Hans looked at him coldly. "Me?" he said calmly. "Just a commander passing through."

Without hesitation, Hans gunned down the two men. He then aimed his weapon at the captives.

"Tell me," Hans muttered, "where is Olivia Aurelion being held?"

"You mean... Lady Olivia?" one of the prisoners answered, trembling. "She's in a cage by the frozen lake. They’re going to execute her... to make her part of the ritual!"

Hans shot the chains binding them and tossed them a key. "Free the others," he said curtly.

He headed straight for the lakeside.

Olivia Aurelion was at death’s door.

Days without food. The unrelenting, piercing cold. Her body was gaunt and frail.

"Look at this bitch," one of the cultists jeered. "Now she knows the meaning of suffering."

Olivia lowered her head. Memories of her past flickered in her mind.

She was once a Legion Commander, a symbol of national loyalty. But she had been accused of high treason against the Königreich Aurelheim.

There had been no public trial. No solid evidence. The investigation was conducted behind closed doors by the royal security council—men directly linked to her father’s case. Soldier testimonies were erased. Documents were reinterpreted.

The evidence wasn't manufactured—it was merely curated.

In a single night, Olivia vanished from official records. Her Legion was disbanded. Her name was struck out. She wasn't executed; she was turned into a living asset.

And that was where the Orden der Heiligen Kette came in. To them, Olivia was the perfect sacrifice—a "holy soldier" deemed to have blasphemed the divine will.

Today was to be her last.

The ritual began. Olivia accepted her fate.

Then—

BANG!

Hans arrived exactly on time.

His SMG roared, bullets tearing through everyone standing there. Grenades were tossed.

BOOM!

Vehicles were obliterated. Those attempting to flee to an armored car equipped with a machine gun were killed instantly—explosives had already been planted.

There was no mercy.

Only one man remained: the Leader of the Order, wearing a goat-head mask.

"W-Wait! Don't kill me! I'll give you anything!" the Shepherd begged.

Hans stared at him with eyes like ice. "In that case," he said softly, "I want you to shut up and die."

BANG.

Olivia stared at Hans with a hollow gaze. Hans draped his jacket over her. While the other captives ate ravenously, Olivia remained motionless.

Hans tried to feed her. No reaction.

"Why... why did you save me... a sinner like me?" Olivia asked, weeping.

Hans pulled her into an embrace. And for the first time, Olivia truly cried.

The thunderous roar of helicopters approached. The 77th Infantry arrived, armed with G36s and AKs, to evacuate everyone.

News spread like wildfire.

Leonhard was livid, smashing his glass. "Why is he always one step ahead of me?!"

Elsewhere, a brown-haired girl smiled at the news. In Aurelheim, the King was in a state of fury. "How is she still alive?!"

Hans stood near the helicopter, lighting a cigarette. Olivia watched him through the glass. Was this the enemy her kingdom had once feared so much?

Hans flicked the cigarette onto the ground.

BOOM.

A massive explosion swallowed the camp. Hans boarded the helicopter without looking back.