“Streetlamp, you go learn something too. There’s much to gain.”

“Yessir ! Your Highness!”

The Mage Corps looked puzzled, but Sol followed the administrators with a strangely proud expression, trailing along behind them.

[Analyzing target fate: Lower fates of the administrators,sloth and resignation,have been consumed. Destiny Shift Points acquired! The fire of your fate spreads to their passion! Lower fates of will and vocational duty grow rapidly!]
[Analyzing target: Sol’s lower fate,magical research and mana comprehension,has improved! Upper fate,combat instincts,sharpen significantly!]

Much had been gained through mere conversation.

The first step had been taken. The rest was now their burden to carry. It wasn’t long before, 

“BOOM! KUUUUUNG! PHRRRRR!”

The bonfire management facility coughed thunderously and began vomiting thick black smoke. Urgent shouts and the clatter of machinery drowned out even the sharp cry of the wind.

“Fwoom! Pah-FWOOM!”  Mana and fire burst aloud.

Northerners, long hidden deep within the blizzard, poked their heads out, peering toward the chaos.

“That’s it! That’s exactly it! Burn it more! Just on the verge of blowing … let it roar!”

Amidst the storm winds rushing in from the wall and the heatwaves rising from the bonfire, a tempest was born, and in the very center of it, arms outstretched, he laughed.

This was it.

Hair and cloak whipped wildly in every direction.

While everyone else scrambled in confusion … 

[Analyzing fate of location: The temperature of the fate-infused cold front across the North has decreased.]
[Analyzing fate of location: Residue blanketing the bonfire facility is being incinerated by intense flame. Obscured fates are revealed!]

He alone laughed with certainty at the shifting of fate.

[Lower fate,madness and elemental chaos,spreads across the North. Long dormant fates are tossed about and drift aimlessly in the turbulence.]

Yes, this was it. The chaos he had wanted.

The North, frozen like a glacier, could not be changed by ordinary means. It had to be hurled into the pit of chaos, only then would a crack appear.

This was how a mad prince would save an empire. He would burn and purify with the tyrant’s flame. And now, the madness he lit was seeping deep into the North.

“Damn it! What the hell is going on now?!”

Count Balzac scowled fiercely amidst the raging storm.

He could see the eruption at the bonfire.

What in the world was happening?

It was already maddening enough dealing with the prince’s unexpected arrival and the corruption of the bonfire administrators.

And then came the sudden appearance of the Eskimos …
And now, this chaos at the bonfire facility.

And yet …

“All of this happened after His Highness arrived.”

He remembered the moment he had seen the prince again for the first time in years. Something had changed. But he hadn’t expected it to be this much.                     Once a man of sheer arrogance and unruly cruelty, always a source of trouble for others, now, that same arrogance and madness had intensified. Even now, chaos erupted all around.

But had the North suffered because of it?

“What in the world…?”

It had not.

Balzac, hurrying toward the bonfire, suddenly stopped in his tracks. His aides turned to him with puzzled expressions … only to suddenly flinch.

“…Sweat?”

“In a blizzard, seriously?”

The knights looked at the moisture on their hands with wide eyes. And it made sense. On a day like this, sweat should freeze the moment it formed.It wasn’t just them sensing the change. Those who had been hiding indoors emerged, bowing as they spotted the count. Their faces, too, were flushed with heat.

“What business brings you out? The blizzard still howls.”

He asked them.

“Well… The heat inside the house was too much, so we stepped out to cool off a bit.”

An unbelievable response.

Out in the raging snowstorm … to cool off?

Then came the clatter … 

“Clatter! Clatter!”

All across the streets, windows flew open. From them wafted waves of heat.    Despite the blizzard not yet passing, people resumed their lives. Shop doors opened, and customers appeared, stepping outside to make purchases. Their faces, which should’ve been pale from the cold, were instead warmed with color.

Balzac’s nose twitched, his throat tightened.

In short … 

“Beautiful…”

This was the vision he had long dreamed of for the North. A people who lived on, undaunted by the cold. From childhood till now, and likely even from the time of his father and grandfather … A North full of vitality.

He never imagined he’d see it with his own eyes. 

As he watched them in awe … 

“It’s the Count! Everyone, show your respect!”

“The Count’s come by! Everyone come out!”

Those who had resumed their daily lives gathered toward the count. Their faces lit with joy and warmth.

Even as they bowed … 

“It’s really warm now. Thank you, Count!”

“Thank you! It suddenly got so toasty!”

“Thanks to your constant care, we’re doing well.”

“I was able to give birth to my child in a warm house. Thank you!”

They called out their thanks to Balzac. The crowd grew so large it became difficult to move through the street. It was proof of how much effort the count had devoted to the people of the North.

A scene unimaginable in the central regions: A noble overwhelmed by his citizens’ gratitude, watching them with a mix of awe and awkwardness.

“…Well, actually, it’s not me …”

But for Balzac, what mattered wasn’t basking in their praise, but ensuring they knew the truth. His flustered honesty drew a twinge of disappointment from his aides. So stubborn. He’d never make it in politics. He could’ve just taken the credit. But that very honesty made it impossible not to follow him.

The knights looked on with resigned yet warm smiles.

Then … 

“Your Highness!”

From a distance, surrounded by stormwinds and laughter, they spotted the prince. Platinum hair and cloak flared wide as he stood with arms spread beneath the exploding bonfire.He looked like the conductor of this chaos, almost divine. He was no longer the man he once was.

Balzac knew … within a single day, that this prince was not the one they had known.

“His Highness over there… he’s the one who brought you warmth.”

Balzac was just beginning to redirect the people’s gratitude … 

“When you’re done there, Count, shall we go hunting?”

The prince called out from beneath the explosive, burning sky.

The swirling snowstorm, the roaring heatwave, the erupting crimson fire, his flaring platinum hair and piercing red eyes swallowed all attention.

Amidst the flickering background, he stood as the one clear figure.

And then, drawing his blood-red lips into a wide grin … 

“Let’s hunt some Eskimos.”

He dropped the words like a bomb.