The air was crisp and cool as Lira stepped out of the camp while holding a paper, the early morning sun casting a golden glow over the forest.
Dew clung to the grass, and the faint chirping of birds filled the air, a stark contrast to the unease settling in her chest.
The camp buzzed with its usual morning routines—knights sharpening their blades, recruits practicing their forms, and the occasional bark of orders from the captains. But as Lira walked, a strange tension gnawed at her, like the calm before a storm. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Then, it happened.
A voice, raw and piercing, shattered the morning calm like a thunderclap.
"Attack!! The shadow wolves have attacked!!" one of the guard shouted.
The scream tore through the camp, sharp and urgent, sending a jolt of adrenaline through Lira's veins. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, her instincts screaming at her to move. Without a second thought, she spun on her heel and sprinted toward the front of the camp dropping the paper she was holding, her hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of her sword.
As she neared the front lines, the scene before her made her breath hitch.
A sea of shadow wolves—far too many to count—surged toward the camp, their pitch-black fur glistening under the morning sun.
Their glowing crimson eyes burned with an unnatural malice, and their low, guttural growls reverberated through the air, sending shivers down the spines of even the most seasoned knights.
The ground trembled under the weight of their charge, and the air was thick with the stench of damp fur and bloodlust.
Lira's fists clenched tightly around the hilt of her sword, her knuckles turning white.
This isn't normal.
Shadow wolves were dangerous creatures, yes that's right, but they were solitary hunters, rarely seen in groups larger than eighth or ten.
For them to attack in such numbers—hundreds, if not thousands—was unheard of. Something was wrong. Something is terribly wrong.
Her sharp eyes scanned the approaching horde, her mind racing. The wolves moved with a coordinated ferocity, their crimson eyes gleaming with an intelligence that sent a chill down her spine.
This wasn't just a random attack. Something or someone–was behind this.
A sharp, commanding voice broke through her thoughts.
"DO NOT BACK DOWN!"
Captain Alexander had emerged from his tent, his towering frame exuding authority as he drew his blade. The knights and recruits who had been frozen in fear snapped to attention at his words. His voice was like a whip, cutting through the chaos and rallying the defenders.
"Raise your weapons! Defend this camp with your lives!"
The air thrummed with a renewed sense of determination. The knights stood their ground, gripping their weapons tightly, while the new recruits swallowed their fear and formed defensive lines. The clatter of swords and shields echoed through the camp as the defenders braced themselves for the onslaught.
But despite the rising morale, Lira's sharp eyes darted around the battlefield, searching for one person.
Where was Leon?
She turned abruptly toward Alexander, her voice urgent.
"Where's Leon?"
Alexander furrowed his brows in confusion. "Leon? Who the hell is that?"
Lira gritted her teeth. She had forgotten—Alexander wasn't in charge of the recruits. He wouldn't know about him.
Before she could question further, the shadow wolves charged.
A wall of black fur and glowing eyes surged forward, their howls merging into a deafening chorus. The earth trembled under their weight as they lunged toward the knights and recruits. The morning sun glinted off their fangs, and the air was filled with the sound of snarls and the pounding of paws against the ground.
Lilianne stepped forward, her radiant blue eyes gleaming with power as she raised her hand. Her voice rang out, chanting in an ancient tongue—
"Exara Nihil, Tura Veltis, Uldan Vorah—Ignis Rupta!"(Tier-3 Magic, Fire Spell, Blazing Rupture)
A searing wave of fire erupted from her outstretched hands, roaring like a dragon's breath as it swallowed the front lines of the approaching wolves. The flames licked hungrily at the shadow wolves, their fur igniting instantly. A dozen of the beasts were incinerated, their shrieks of agony piercing the battlefield. But the remaining wolves only hesitated for a moment before continuing their relentless assault.
Lira unsheathed her sword and charged forward, slashing through the nearest wolf with practiced precision. Black blood splattered onto the ground, the wolf collapsing with a pained whimper. She moved with the grace of a seasoned warrior, her blade cutting through the air like a silver streak.
To her left, knights fought fiercely, their swords flashing under the morning sun. The clash of steel against claw echoed through the air, mingling with the cries of the wounded and the dying. To her right, Lilianne unleashed another spell, a wall of ice forming in an attempt to slow the beasts. The ice shimmered in the sunlight, but the wolves quickly adapted, leaping over the barrier with terrifying agility.
And yet—
The wolves kept coming.
Lira's breath grew heavier. There were too many. Even with the knights and Lilianne's magic, the sheer number of enemies was overwhelming. Her muscles burned with exertion, and her sword arm ached from the constant strikes. She parried another attack, kicking a wolf away before running her blade through another. But for every wolf she felled, two more seemed to take its place.
Where the hell is Leon?!
Her frustration boiled over as she fought, her eyes scanning the battlefield for any sign of him. The thought of him being caught off guard or worse—already fallen—sent a pang of fear through her chest. She couldn't afford to lose focus, but the question gnawed at her mind.
Then—
A massive shadow wolf leaped toward her, its fangs bared and eyes burning with primal hunger. It moved too fast for her to react fully. Lira raised her sword to block, but she knew it wouldn't be enough.
Too fast—!
Before the wolf could reach her, a dark blur cut through the battlefield.
A flash of silver.
A sickening slash.
The massive wolf fell to the ground, its head cleanly severed from its body.
Lira's eyes widened in shock.
Standing in front of her, blade dripping with black blood, was Leon.
His face was unreadable, his black eyes gleaming faintly in the morning light. There was a cold intensity in his gaze, a quiet ferocity that sent a shiver down her spine. He stood tall and unwavering, his presence alone enough to make the wolves hesitate.
Without a word, he turned his blade sideways, flicking off the excess blood before stepping forward. The wolves, sensing something, growled low in their throats, their crimson eyes narrowing as they focused on him.
The battlefield grew eerily silent as Leon took another step.
Then another.
The remaining shadow wolves—hundreds of them—suddenly let out guttural growls. Their bodies tensed, their instincts screaming at them to be wary of this one man. Leon's grip on his sword tightened, his black eyes locking onto the horde.
A cold breeze swept through the battlefield, carrying with it the scent of blood and fear.
He exhaled.
Then, he moved.
Faster than the eye could follow, he vanished.
And in the next instant—
The slaughter began.
Leon's blade became a blur of silver, cutting through the shadow wolves with terrifying precision. His movements were fluid and deadly, each strike calculated to maximize damage. The wolves howled in pain and fury, but they were no match for his speed and skill. Black blood sprayed across the battlefield as Leon carved a path through the horde, his black eyes never wavering.
Lira watched in awe, her breath caught in her throat. She had never seen anyone fight like this. Leon moved like a force of nature, unstoppable and relentless. The wolves that had seemed so overwhelming moments ago now fell before him like wheat before a scythe.
But even as she marveled at his skill, a part of her couldn't help but wonder–
Who exactly was Leon?
-----
On the battlefield, the air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the guttural growls of shadow wolves.
The once-peaceful morning was now a chaotic frenzy of snarls, clashing steel, and panicked shouts. Leon's black eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.
The sheer number of wolves was staggering—far more than he had anticipated. Their movements were unnaturally fast, their crimson eyes glowing with a feral hunger as they lunged at the defenders.
'What the hell is this number? And they're fast too. My current body can't keep up,'
Leon thought, his jaw tightening as he assessed the situation. He had never faced shadow wolves before, and their speed and coordination were unlike anything he had encountered.
Their crimson eyes burned with a malevolent intelligence, their black fur bristling as they surged forward in waves.
'This is going to take a while. Damn it, this number is insane!' Leon cursed inwardly.
He regretted not staying on top of that tree to observe their movements and find their flaws.
'This freaking woman knight is the cause of this. If she had dodge that wolf, I could've avoided this chaos.'
With a sharp exhale, Leon surged forward, his blade slicing through the air with a deadly
Swoosh!
The nearest wolf barely had time to react before its head was severed from its body, black blood spraying across the grass. Leon didn't pause.
He moved like a shadow, his movements fluid and precise, each strike calculated to maximize damage.
The wolves howled in pain and fury, but their cries were cut short as Leon's blade found its mark again and again.
Clang!
A wolf's claws scraped against his sword as he parried its attack, the force of the blow reverberating through his arms. Leon gritted his teeth, using the momentum to spin and deliver a crushing kick to the beast's side.
The wolf yelped, tumbling to the ground, but another was already lunging at him. Leon sidestepped, his blade flashing as he cleaved through the creature's neck.
Despite his skill, the sheer number of wolves was overwhelming. They came in waves, their crimson eyes gleaming with a malevolent intelligence. Leon's breath grew heavier, his muscles burning with exertion. He knew he couldn't keep this up forever. He needed to find a way to thin their numbers down, and look for a good timing to use his Swordsmanship technique.