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... ibrium, but even this was enough to instill fear in the people.

Even those who burned their fighting spirit became infinitely weaker in the face of enormous military force.

The wizards were stunned by the corpses strewn in front of them while setting barriers, and the martial arts that dealt with the demons that popped up around them were also suffering from all sorts of fear.

First Fimbulbert. When the severe three-year winter came, they already knew. In the end, my body ...

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As a princess that could not wield magic, Princess Daphne’s only value to her kingdom was her arranged marriage. The task was simple, but when Daphne gets kidnapped and brought to the cold mountains of Vramid, she realizes that she’s in over her head.

She had heard of these cursed mountains before― rocky terrain, freezing temperatures, and the land was ruled by a man feared by many within the continent.

King Atticus Heinvres, the blood-thirsty ruler of the North.

Even though she had never met him before, tales were spread of King Atticus’s ruthlessness. Some said he was a monster, others claimed he was the devil himself, but whatever the story was, everyone knew of the man who had powers beyond anyone’s imagination. He could topple armies and crumble nations with just one wave of his hand, aided by what others rumored to be a cursed obsidian ring.

No one outside of Vramid had ever met the fearsome king before. Not until Daphne.

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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