Far from the reach of the Ancient Wolves' savage howls, in a rocky gorge crevice flanked by two steep cliffs, the air felt much calmer. The fog in this place thinned, swept away by the wind flowing through the natural stone corridor.
At the bottom of the gorge, Vane leaned against the cold cliff wall. His breathing was still slightly ragged, but his face was adorned with explosive laughter. His three comrades from the Blood Sword Faction joined in the laughter, their voices echoing and bouncing off the stone walls.
"Did you see that Draven's face?!" exclaimed Vane, wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye. "He thought he could play hero with that junk sword of his. When the Summoning Circle lit up, that kid didn't even have time to blink!"
"It is a pity that magic scroll had to be used," mumbled the stout knight beside him, leaning his spiked mace against a rock. "That is a mid-tier relic. Its price could buy a vacation home in the capital."
Vane snorted dismissively, adjusting his shoulder guard. "Do not be narrow-minded. When Young Master Orvelis hears that the stray dog has become wolf dung, the gold coins flowing into our pockets will be enough to buy ten houses. Besides, facing that street bear Ragnar and Draven directly carries the risk of injury. Using monsters to clean up trash is the way of true nobles."
The four of them nodded in agreement, imagining the bodies of Kael, Ragnar, and Selena, which by now must have been torn into shreds of meat amidst the fog of the Forbidden Forest.
However, that premature victory party was forcibly halted.
Crunch... crunch...
The sound of boot steps crushing gravel and broken twigs came from the direction of the gorge mouth, the very path they had just taken to escape.
Vane's laughter died instantly. The four members of the Blood Sword froze immediately. Their hands instinctively reached for their weapons.
"Did any wolves manage to follow us?" whispered the female mage with a trembling voice, casting a small spark at the tip of her staff.
"Impossible. We are out of the summoner's radar range," Vane replied, drawing his sword and stepping forward cautiously. His eyes narrowed, piercing through the remnants of thin fog at the mouth of the gorge.
Three human silhouettes slowly emerged from behind the fog.
They ran with a regular, calm rhythm, filled with a killing aura so dense it made the air in the gorge feel heavy to breathe.
As the afternoon sunlight slipping through the cliff crevice illuminated their faces, Vane felt his heart seemingly stop beating. His knees instantly went weak.
Ragnar Holt stepped in, his uniform drenched in black monster blood, leaving a psychopathic smile. Beside him, Selena Lune walked gracefully, her robe slightly torn yet her face as calm as a lake surface. And in their center, gripping a giant black sword still dripping with blood vapor, was Kael Draven.
My eyes were no longer ordinary brown; they burned with a dark red hue radiating absolute cruelty.
"H-how..." Vane's voice choked in his throat. His eyes bulged staring at the three figures as if seeing ghosts crawling out of hell. "How could you possibly escape those dozens of Dire Wolves?!"
I stared at Vane with a face as flat as a stone wall. There was no explosive anger. On the battlefield, letting emotions take over upon seeing the enemy is an amateur's mistake.
My brain had calculated the time, terrain, and opponents' positions. We did not have much time before the wolf pack arrived.
I raised the Blood-Iron level with my chest, looking at Ragnar and Selena without turning my head.
"Break their legs. Cripple their hands," I ordered with a cold tone that vibrated the air. "Do not waste energy and time killing. We need them alive."
Ragnar let out a hoarse laugh. "With pleasure."
Due to shock and mental fatigue, the Blood Sword Faction's formation crumbled before the fight even began.
Ragnar charged like a storm. The mace-wielding knight from Vane's group tried to parry, but the raw power of Ragnar's golden Aura-coated greatsword was too massive.
Ragnar did not use the sharp edge of his sword. Following my instructions, he rotated his wrist in the air and slammed the flat side of the giant steel blade right into the outer side of the knight's right knee.
CRACK!
The sound of crushing bone echoed sickeningly. The knight screamed hysterically, his leg bending at an unnatural angle, and he collapsed to the ground helplessly.
On the other side, the female mage panicked and tried to cast a fireball spell. Yet before her last syllable was uttered, the ground beneath her feet glowed blue.
Glowing tree roots shot out like whips, tightly wrapping her wrists, crushing her finger bones until she dropped her wooden staff, then slamming her body against the cliff wall until she fainted. Selena finished it without even shifting from her position.
Vane, now driven by despair and terror, swung his sword at me while screaming blindly.
In the eyes of a soldier who had crossed swords with Swordmasters, Vane's swing looked like a child's slow dance full of openings. His stance was too wide, his body weight rested on his front foot, and his eyes did not watch my weapon but my face.
I tilted the blade of my Blood-Iron, letting Vane's sword slide over my black steel, deflecting its trajectory to the side. The momentum of Vane's attack made him stumble forward, creating a one-meter-wide gap in his lower defense area.
I stepped sideways with a spinning motion like a shadow. While ducking, I swung my sword with an incredibly shallow, precise slash.
The tip of the Blood-Iron blade sliced right across the back of Vane's right ankle.
The steel severed his Achilles Tendon cleanly.
"Arrrghhh!" Vane let out a shrill scream, a sound that tore his own vocal cords. He fell to the ground, his sword flying from his grasp. His calf muscle rolled upward horrifically because its supporting tendon was severed. He would never be able to stand or run again.
It took less than twelve seconds. The four mercenary assassins from the Middle Class now lay sprawled on the ground, groaning, crying, and totally paralyzed.
Vane clutched his ankle spurting blood, crawling backward using his elbows until his back hit the stone wall of the gorge. His face was bathed in tears of fear.
As I walked slowly approaching him, Vane stared at me as if I were the manifestation of the devil himself.
"W-what do you want, Draven?!" sobbed Vane, the remnants of his arrogance evaporating without a trace. "We surrender! We surrender! The Academy will execute you in the square if you kill fellow cadets! You cannot kill me!"
I stopped two steps in front of him. I looked him up and down, then snorted softly. My lips curved to form a sarcastic smile that did not reach my eyes at all.
"Kill you?" I said with feigned surprise. "Why should I dirty my hands to kill you, Vane? If I kill you, I have to deal with the annoying Senate bureaucracy."
Vane blinked, confusion interrupting his fear for a moment.
Suddenly, the gravel beneath Vane's body began to vibrate.
The vibration traveled to the cliff walls, followed by a low rumbling sound originating from the mouth of the gorge. Hoarse, answering howls echoed, drawing closer and closer, carrying the stench of carrion and savagery piercing through the remaining fog.
Vane's already pale face now turned blue. His eyes bulged wide toward the gorge mouth.
I leaned down slightly, staring right into his eyes filled with absolute terror.
"I did not come to kill you," I whispered coldly. "I am just delivering your pet left behind."
Without wasting time, I turned to my team. "Selena, cliff wall."
Selena nodded in understanding. The girl stomped her foot on the ground. Mid-tier earth magic glowed, forcing rocks from the gorge wall to protrude, forming rough steps spiraling up toward the safe plateau above the cliff.
"Up. Quickly," I ordered Ragnar.
Ragnar spat at Vane, sheathed his sword, and began climbing the stone steps nimbly. Selena followed behind him. I was the last to go up.
Right as my foot stepped onto the safe plateau at the top of the cliff, Selena snapped her fingers. The stone footholds on the cliff wall shattered into pieces, cutting off the only escape route.
From up there, we looked down, to the bottom of the gorge now a death trap with no way out.
A pitch-black tidal wave rushed into the cliff crevice. Dozens of ancient Dire Wolves, their eyes glowing red with bloodlust triggered by the aromatic trail of my sword, finally found the main source of that scent.
Vane and his three comrades screamed hysterically. The paralyzed ones tried to drag their bodies away, feebly swinging weapons, but they were merely helpless lumps of meat before dozens of giant jaws.
The first wolf pounced, sinking its fangs into the knight Vane's shoulder. A desperate scream shattered the afternoon air, followed by the sound of tearing fabric, ripping flesh, and snapping bones.
The slaughter feast began, accompanied by cries of death echoing to the Aethelgard sky.
Beside me, Ragnar stood with hands on his hips. His breathing was ragged, yet a savage smile full of satisfaction was clearly imprinted on his face. For a street fighter often trampled by nobles, seeing karma paid in cash and this brutally was a satisfying spectacle.
I looked down with an emotionless face. Military efficiency had been achieved. The enemy was destroyed, the gold in their pockets was irrelevant if they were dead, and our hands were clean from murder accusations in the eyes of the academy.
Then, I glanced to my left.
Selena Lune, the teenage girl claiming to be a healer from the academy, would surely turn her face away. Any normal girl would vomit, cry, or at least tremble in horror seeing human bodies torn apart alive until their intestines spilled out.
However, the sight I beheld actually froze the remaining adrenaline in my veins.
Selena stood at the edge of the cliff, the afternoon wind of the Forbidden Forest blowing gently through her black hair. She stared straight down, right at Vane whose neck had just been bitten off by a Dire Wolf.
The girl did not tremble. She did not turn her face away.
Instead, her crystal blue eyes sparkled brightly, radiating pure enthusiasm. The corners of her lips pulled upward, forming the sweetest, gentlest, and most captivating smile I had ever seen.
A smile usually given by a girl watching beautiful fireworks at a summer festival.
Noticing my gaze, Selena turned to me. Her eyes narrowed happily, a faint red flush adorning her pale cheeks.
"A very beautiful show, isn't it, Cadet Draven?" whispered Selena softly, her melodious voice flowing over the death screams below us.
I gripped the hilt of the Blood-Iron on my back so tightly my knuckles turned white. The cold wind seemed to pierce my uniform.
This unexpected variable was no healing angel. Behind her beautiful face and elegant holy magic, Selena Lune was a true psychopath. And somehow, I had a premonition that dealing with her would be far more terrifying than a thousand Ancient Wolves.