As he ran, Cecil sheathed his rust‑edged blade at his waist and spread both hands wide.
Frigid energy surged from his right palm, while his left hand gathered power as well — this was the first time he had channeled frost through both arms at once.
The source of cold within his chest split into two streams, one rushing down his right arm toward his fingertips, the other flowing parallel down his left.
Two plumes of white mist burst from his palms simultaneously, striking three wolves lunging from the left and two circling around from the front‑right.
The instant the frost made contact, a layer of white frost quickly crystallised across the fur of the three wolves on the left, visibly slowing their movements.
The two wolves on the right were engulfed head‑on by the freezing mist. They shook their heads violently and backed away, one slipping as its front paw landed on the frost‑hardened ground.
Yet Cecil did not pause. After releasing the twin bursts of frost, he surged forward. Stacked bonuses from Speed and Agility left faint streaks across the earth beneath his rapid strides. He covered six paces in three seconds, charging straight into the middle of the wolf pack’s front formation.
He raised his right elbow, followed closely by his left fist. The boosted impact of Strength slammed into the wolves’ shoulders, necks and ribs, producing two dull thuds. The two struck wolves tumbled backward, rising slower than normal.
His combat value ticked upward.
Silver runes flickered rapidly at the edge of his vision. He had no time to examine the numbers closely, but he could feel them climbing.
"Rust has latched on!" Edwin’s voice came sharply from behind him.
The copper‑shelled beetle clung to the hind leg of one grey wolf, its tiny teeth sunk into the gap between fur and muscle. Enraged, the wolf shook its leg wildly to shake it off, but Rust locked its six legs firmly in place. Its small body swung like a leaf in the wind, yet it never loosened its grip. The wolf’s trajectory shifted with the thrashing, its pounce toward Oliver delayed by a full step.
"Turner! To the right!" Freddy called out. The grey weasel darted out from the grass, slammed into another wolf’s flank, scratched it once and rolled away.
Infuriated, the wolf spun around to chase Turner, only to step onto a dry vine laid in the grass. Ivy’s emerald form sprang up from beneath the vine, her serpent tail coiling around the wolf’s front‑leg joint, locking its knee and sending it stumbling down onto one knee.
Robin circled less than a man’s height above the ground. Its claws slice faint, bleeding cuts across eyelids and snouts.Harried wolves kept tossing their heads upward, their offensive rhythm completely broken.
"Perfect!" Freddy gasped. "Everyone is holding their own!"
Cecil did not reply. He gathered frost in his right hand once more. This time, instead of scattering the mist, he compressed it. He condensed the cold energy into a thumb‑sized orb and hurled it toward the wolf lunging at Lydia.
The compact frost orb exploded on impact against the beast’s chest. A shell of ice spread across its ribcage, fine cracks spiderwebbing outward along its edges. The wolf froze mid‑motion like a sculpture suspended in the air before crashing heavily onto the grass.
Gwendolyn had stayed behind, near Cecil’s feet. She did not join the frontline melee, for she was occupied with something else.
A deep, dragon‑born resonance rumbled continuously in her throat. The sound was not loud, yet it washed over the entire battlefield. Whenever a pouncing wolf drew within three metres of the group, its ears flattened uncontrollably and its movements stiffened almost imperceptibly. It was primal fear rooted deep in their bloodline — the inherited terror their ancestors had felt beneath the dominance of dragons five hundred years ago, etched into their genes.
While maintaining the resonance, the white frost Gwendolyn exhaled did not blast forward, but drifted outward in all directions.
Tiny ice crystals hung suspended in the air, nearly invisible silver specks drifting slowly toward the four companions.
A thin layer of frost settled over Edwin’s arm, not causing frostbite, but forming a soft translucent film wrapped around his skin and sleeve. The same delicate ice membrane coated Lydia’s shoulders, the back of Freddy’s hands, and the side of Oliver’s neck.
"Look at our arms," Oliver muttered, glancing down. The ice film glowed faintly beneath the moonlight.
"Light ice armour," Gwendolyn’s voice rolled up from deep in her throat, echoing softly. "It will not last long, but it works for now."
Freddy reached out and touched the membrane on his hand. It felt cool, not biting cold, like a thin sheet of jade pressed against his skin. A wolf’s paw swiped at his forearm; fine cracks spread across the ice layer, yet it did not shatter, absorbing most of the blow’s force. Freddy blinked, then broke into a grin.
"This thing works as a shield!"
"Do not get distracted!" Cecil called out. His voice was hoarse from repeatedly expelling frost, drying out his throat, yet his physical condition held up better than he had expected. The river of cold energy inside him still flowed steadily, showing no sign of depletion. New attribute points kept unlocking: Combat Value climbed from 57 to 68, paused, then jumped to 72.
He earned another point. Without hesitation, he allocated it to Agility.
His field of vision expanded once again. He could sense every corner of the battlefield: the wolf Rust had bitten was retreating, Turner’s grey silhouette wove through the grass, Robin’s diving trajectory was crystal‑clear under moonlight, and Ivy’s emerald body slowly uncoiled from the hind leg of a third wolf. All of this information unfurled like a wide‑spread net inside his mind, every position sharply defined.
The alpha wolf remained where it stood.
It had not retreated. It had been watching. It watched Cecil unleash frost from both hands, witnessed Gwendolyn’s resonance and the ice armour, and observed the four companions fighting alongside their spirit‑beasts. It had seen everything.
Then it let out a short, commanding growl.
The remaining wolves began to fall back. It was not a panicked rout, but an organised withdrawal. Injured wolves were sheltered at the centre, while those still able‑bodied guarded the flanks. They retreated into the shadows of the withered forest, their dark‑green eyes vanishing one by one into the darkness, like snuffed‑out lanterns.
The alpha wolf was the last to leave. Before slipping back into shadow, it glanced toward Cecil. Its deep emerald eyes held neither rage nor fear, only calm scrutiny.
Then it was gone.
Silence fell over the battlefield. Scattered tufts of grey‑brown fur littered the ground alongside patches of slowly melting frost.
The five of them heaved for breath, each bearing minor wounds. Freddy had a shallow scratch across his forearm, Edwin’s sleeve was torn, dirt stained Lydia’s knees, and a small cut marked Oliver’s earlobe.
Cecil stared down at his hands. The fingertips of his right hand were pale from cold; his left fared slightly better, yet trembled faintly. The source of frost inside his chest contracted slowly, like a river settling back to its normal water level after a violent surge.
Gwendolyn crouched beside his feet. Her blue‑white scales were duller than usual. The ice armour had shattered, and the thin frost covering the others melted away, sliding off their skin like morning dew.
"I am fine," Gwendolyn said. Her tone gave no hint of exhaustion, though her tail hung low instead of held high as it normally did.
Cecil knelt down and gently stroked her back. "That was ice armour you summoned?"
"A weakened version. At my full power, it could cover an entire mountain. Right now, it can only shield the four of you for half a minute." Gwendolyn’s tail flicked, brushing stray ice crystals off the back of his hand. "It is enough for the moment."
Cecil stood back up and glanced at his companions. Freddy was checking Turner for injuries, the little weasel huddled in his arms shaking its fur. Lydia lifted Ivy out of the grass, the vine‑serpent lying listlessly in her palm.
Oliver counted the feathers on Robin’s tail; the grey falcon’s plumage was messy, but it remained alert. Edwin knelt on the ground, prying Rust free from a wolf bite mark. The beetle rolled over, twitched its antennae, and snapped its shell shut with a small click.
"Anyone seriously hurt?" Cecil asked.
The four shook their heads one after another.
Cecil nodded. He bent to pick up his rust‑edged blade, wiping blood and rust flakes off the edge with the hem of his robe.
Suddenly, a faint tremor rumbled beneath their feet, as if something deep underground had shifted.
"Did anyone feel that?" Lydia halted.
"I felt it," Gwendolyn spoke from Cecil’s shoulder, her tone sharper than before. "Look ahead!"
"The ground is shaking?" Edwin frowned and leaned forward.
The earth before them caved inward, revealing a narrow, faintly glowing passage. It was not the rippling portal they had used to arrive, but a downward‑sloping tunnel lined with glowing rune‑stones casting warm, steady yellow light, like long‑lit street lamps.
The five exchanged glances.
"What in the world is this?" Freddy whispered.
Cecil stood at the tunnel’s entrance and peered inside. The slope curved after roughly twenty steps, its end hidden from sight. Warm golden light spilled from the rune‑stones lining the walls, forming a corridor leading deep underground.
"Let’s go take a look," he said.