Adora closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling the energy of the battlefield pulse through her veins. The lingering warmth of fallen warriors and beasts left behind traces of their essence, strands of light magic floating unseen in the cold air. Slowly, deliberately, she stretched out her hands, drawing in the light energy that crackled around her like embers in the wind.
Arthur, standing beside her, remained silent as he observed the chaos below. The battle was changing. Though the Frost Elf army had won, it was a hollow victory. Their warriors stood scattered, bodies battered and breath heavy. Hundreds of fallen wolves and elves littered the snowy expanse, their blood staining the ice in deep crimson streaks.
Arthur counted quickly—around eighty Worker Elves, the expendable labor force that made up the bulk of their numbers. Twenty Warrior Elves, hardened fighters wielding frozen steel, and then the two commanders. One of them, a towering figure with four arms instead of two, barked orders with a chilling authority. The other, more refined in stance, radiated an air of controlled menace.
Adora exhaled sharply, her skin tingling as her body neared its absorption limit. She clenched her fists and turned to Arthur. "I'm almost ready. Just give me a few more minutes."
Arthur didn't respond. Instead, he took a step forward and launched himself off the icy ridge.
Adora barely had time to curse before he was gone, diving headfirst into the fray like a comet crashing into the earth.
The battlefield erupted in fresh chaos as Arthur landed amidst the surviving elves, his impact sending a burst of ice and blood into the air. He wasted no time, his newly honed instincts kicking in. The scent of spilled blood filled his senses, feeding his unnatural hunger, fueling his movements with relentless energy.
A Warrior Elf lunged at him with a curved frost blade, but Arthur sidestepped and grabbed the elf's wrist. With a sickening crunch, he twisted, snapping the limb in an instant before sinking his fangs into the warrior's throat. The elf barely had time to scream before Arthur ripped away, his body already healing from the minor cuts he'd received upon landing.
More elves charged him. It didn't matter. Arthur moved through them like a hurricane of death. He tore through Worker Elves with ease, slashing with Wolf Fang and ripping through armor with his bare hands. Blood splattered across his cloak, painting him like a specter of carnage.
A massive wolf leaped at him from behind, jaws snapping shut just inches from his face. Arthur spun at the last second, twisting his body and driving a devastating back fist into its snout. The force of the blow shattered its jaw on impact, sending it whimpering to the ground, twitching in agony.
Arthur grinned, feeling more alive than ever. His body was in constant regeneration, the blood-soaked battlefield acting as an endless source of strength. He ripped through elves and wolves alike, carving a path of destruction in his wake. The frost-covered ground became slick with fresh corpses, but he did not stop.
In his ears a choir of voices sounded repeatingly a few phrases...
[ You have killed a Common Feral, Frost Elf. ]
[ You have killed a Common Savage, Frost Hunter. ]
A group of Warrior Elves attempted to form a defensive line against him, but their fear betrayed them. Arthur lunged forward, kicking one into another, sending them sprawling. Before they could recover, he was upon them, his blade flashing as he ended their struggle in seconds.
By the time he came to a halt, panting, he had wiped out most of the remaining Worker Elves and a handful of Warrior Elves. The battlefield was eerily silent, save for the labored breathing of those who still stood.
A slow clap echoed through the frigid air.
Arthur turned, wiping blood from his chin as Adora finally joined the fight. She stood atop a fallen warrior, light energy crackling around her like an aura of pure force. Her golden eyes gleamed in the frozen dusk, her entire being pulsing with restrained power.
"Took you long enough," Arthur smirked.
Adora rolled her eyes. "You couldn't wait five minutes?"
"Didn't feel like it."
Their moment of levity was short-lived. A deep, guttural growl rumbled across the battlefield, drawing their attention to the approaching figures.
The two elf commanders stood at the edge of the remaining forces, their eyes filled with cold fury. The four-armed one cracked his knuckles, his extra limbs flexing with unsettling precision. Beside him, the second commander rested his hand on the hilt of an ornate, ice-forged greatsword, his presence exuding an air of deadly calm.
And then there were the wolves.
Two hulking beasts stalked forward, their eyes glowing with primal rage. The smaller one, still towering at nearly four meters tall, snarled as it stepped over fallen bodies. But it was the largest wolf—the one standing at an imposing five meters—that drew Arthur's attention. Its sheer size was monstrous, its breath coming out in thick clouds of steam, its body covered in old scars from countless battles.
Arthur licked his lips. "Now this… this is going to be fun."
Adora tightened her grip on her sword. "Try not to die too quickly."
With a final exchange of knowing smirks, they faced their opponents.
A exciting fight was about to begin.