Along the stone walls on either side of the secret passage, there were no carvings in the style of the Northern nobility, but rather a series of murals.
Painted with an unknown red pigment, the crude, minimalist strokes outlined scenes pulsing with primal vitality and immense power.
Within the paintings, one could vaguely discern armed frost giants, horns, humans, blizzards...
According to investigations by later court scholars, such murals were the Val barbarians' method of recording history, a fact Oliver knew well as one of their descendants.
Evidently, these murals in the mausoleum also recorded a true historical event in primitive fashion.
"Frost giants, a horn, blizzards..."
"Could this be..."
Duke Oliver could not help but mutter under his breath. The story felt somewhat familiar to him.
He continued down the secret passage until he finally reached the end—a separate burial chamber.
Inside, there were no luxurious funerary objects, only a single, massive horn resting in the space.
The horn appeared to be carved from a leg bone, its slightly yellowed surface bearing a subtle sheen. It was etched with bold, imposing runes, resembling a relic from an ancient, savage era. From the crevices between those runes seeped a chilling light that made one feel as if they had plunged into an icehouse.
It seemed less like a horn and more like a dormant glacier.
At the sight of it, Duke Oliver was struck dumb with astonishment before an overwhelming surge of ecstasy seized him.
He finally understood: the story passed down through generations was real.
"The Horn of Everfrost."
Duke Oliver murmured the name aloud.
House Norton claimed that their ancestor was a frost giant.
Back then, the surname Norton did not yet exist; the frost giant had borne the surname of his tribe, "Everfrost"—Gahe Everfrost.
Unable to endure the desolate expanse of the glacial plateau and coveting greater power, this frost giant took advantage of his kin being away on a hunt. He struck down the guards watching the sacred ground and stole the tribe's holy relic capable of controlling frost and snow: the Horn of Everfrost. He sounded the horn, and an endless blizzard sealed off the path behind him, allowing him to escape his pursuers and reach the warm south.
In the region of the southern Storm Heights, the naturally colossal and mighty frost giant became the most powerful warrior. He conquered the barbarians by force, founded the Val Tribe, and passed down the bloodline of frost giants to this day.
Yet legend held that if the horn were ever sounded again, the frost giants from the great northern glacier would hear the call of their ancestor, hunt down the traitor's descendants, and march south at any cost to reclaim the sacred relic.
"Damned red dragon, if you won't let me live in peace—"
"Then face the wrath of the frost giants! I'll drag you down with me!"
Grand Duke Oliver stared at the massive horn, a ferocious sneer spreading across his face.
These frost giants—the Everfrost Tribe—hailed from the Vahara Glacier at the northernmost edge of Anzeta, a place known as the Frozen Forbidden Land. Periodically, they rode south amidst howling blizzards to pillage. The intervals were never fixed; sometimes years, sometimes decades, or even a century.
Sixty years had passed since the last Frost Calamity, when the frost giants had swept south. That calamity had inflicted devastating losses on the Northern realms, leveling several cities, claiming tens of thousands of lives, and turning the Storm Heights into a complete no-man's-land for humans.
In other words, Duke Oliver held the key to a Frost Calamity in his hands.
As long as he blew the horn, he could unleash a disaster that would engulf the entire Northlands.
Yet when he considered that sounding the horn would also put his own life in grave danger, hesitation crept back onto his face.
He valued his own skin above all else. Unless driven to absolute desperation, he would never gamble his life merely to spite an enemy.
And now, Duke Oliver seemed to glimpse an alternative.
"Perhaps I can use the Horn of Everfrost to threaten the Kingdom of Cinders into preserving the status of the Principality of Norton."
"I might even gain far more benefits and elevate my station."
"I need to secure it first."
With that thought, he reached out to touch the surface of the bone horn, forgetting that his hand still bore a bleeding wound.
*Hum—*
A deep, resonant drone sounded—the horn had been directly triggered!
This was the bloodline relic of the frost giants!
The sound echoed like a savage war cry blended with the shriek of a blizzard, reverberating across the entire Great Anzetta Waste.
Instantly, the runes flared with piercing cold light, resonating with his frost giant bloodline. Boundless frosty power from the frost giant progenitor flooded into his body, making Duke Oliver feel as though an endless well of strength were coursing through his veins.
Through that frigid glow, he seemed to witness the ancient war between giants and dragons, where mountain-sized frost giants blew their horns, summoning relentless blizzards that froze the red dragons in the sky into solid ice.
In Oliver's eyes, this was both ancient history and an omen of things to come—with this power, he truly might be able to confront a dragon.
"Th-This power..."
"Incredible!"
Duke Oliver opened his fingers, and a chilling current swirling with snowflakes drifted from between them.
He clenched his fist again, and an icicle materialized before him.
A dazzling cold light flared in Oliver's eyes as shimmering runes spread across his entire form. His body surged, swelling to over four meters in height, and his skin turned a glacial blue.
At this moment, he was like the master of a frost calamity, capable of commanding glaciers and conjuring blizzards from thin air.
This sudden boon filled him with peerless confidence. He finally understood how his ancestor had conquered the barbarian tribes all those years ago.
"I truly have no idea why my ancestor kept this secret hidden."
"It is simply magnificent."
Oliver suddenly burst into arrogant, wild laughter.
Along with his laughter, howling wind and snow gathered around him, whipping up with mounting fury.
"From this day forth—"
"I no longer need anyone to back me!"
"What Kingdom of Cinders? What Principality of Bosque? The entire Northlands, all of Anzeta will tremble before this power! This place shall become my empire!"
"I am the blizzard! I am the calamity!"
Ice spikes pierced the stone floor, tearing a deep chasm into the earth. Duke Oliver, now almost indistinguishable from a true frost giant, harnessed an ice storm and surged skyward from the depths.
"Wh-What is that?"
Oliver's personal guards looked on in utter disbelief, paralyzed where they stood, completely at a loss.
Yet before they could react, the howling wind and snow encased them, freezing them into ice sculptures.
"Mortal lives are nothing more than ants to me now."
"Gone in the blink of an eye."
Oliver looked down coldly upon the ice sculptures. Giving no thought to the fact that they had once been his own retainers, he felt not the slightest regret, nodding in profound satisfaction instead.
Chapter 163