The wind stirred once more, sending a gentle spray of crystalline frost into the air. The night sky was remarkably clear, with a slender crescent moon and a tapestry of starlight spilling over the endless peaks. The silvery glow wrapped the mountains in a silence that felt both sacred and ethereal.
Lunethia sat by a massive crag, wrapped tightly in her cloak with the white rabbit nestled in her lap. She gazed at the otherworldly vista of Starfall Cliff in silence. Perhaps the tragic beauty of the landscape offered a momentary balm for her weary mind—or perhaps, she was simply lost in the labyrinth of her own thoughts.
Rena approached and took a seat beside her against the cold stone.
"Thea, I'd like to apologize for Rhine."
Lunethia turned to her, offering a faint, weary smile. "It's all right. I wasn't truly angry. I just wish he'd show a bit more respect to others, instead of expecting the world to revolve around him."
Rena leaned back, letting out a long sigh. "The truth is, Rhine is just… stubborn. He's got a sharp tongue, but a soft heart. That nickname he gave you… in his own twisted way, it was probably his attempt to get closer to you."
Lunethia tilted her head, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "Does he do that to everyone?"
Rena rolled her eyes at the memory. "Oh, absolutely. Every one of us had to endure a nickname before we finally forced him to use our real names."
Lunethia chuckled. "And how exactly did you manage that?"
Rena thought for a moment, a grin widening on her face.
"Everyone had a different strategy. When we first met, he used to call Karl 'The Golden Prince.' Karl just told him—if Rhine kept calling him 'Prince,' wouldn't that imply the Great Solaria Empire was a rank below the Kingdom of Stellara? So, Rhine switched to calling him 'Goldie,' and Karl retaliated by calling Rhine 'Redhead.' Eventually, Rhine couldn't take it anymore and agreed to just use 'Karl.'"
Lunethia couldn't help but laugh. "What about the others?"
"The others?" Rena shrugged. "Well, aside from Gerald, who lets him get away with calling him 'Old Man,' the rest of us simply refused to indulge him."
"He used to call Owen 'Big Guy,' but that blockhead didn't even realize Rhine was talking to him," Rena continued, her eyes dancing with amusement. "As for Gareth, after being labeled 'Little Guy,' he made it a point to re-introduce himself with overly dramatic, aristocratic etiquette every single time they spoke. Eventually, Rhine couldn't take the secondhand embarrassment anymore and gave in."
Lunethia leaned in, smiling. "And what about you and Milia?"
Rena let out a weary, self-deprecating laugh.
"I was 'Short-haired Girl,' and Milia was 'Long-haired Girl.'" She paused, adding a heavy sigh. "For an entire year."
Lunethia burst into laughter. "And how did you finally get him to stop?"
"I grew my hair out."
Rena gave her ponytail a playful flick, a triumphant glint in her eyes. "Rhine couldn't use hair length to tell us apart anymore, so he had no choice but to learn my name."
"It was that simple?" Lunethia giggled.
As her laughter began to fade, a shadow of hesitation crossed her face. Her voice softened, dropping an octave. "Hey, Rena... can I ask you something?"
She wavered for a moment before continuing. "Am I... really that white? Is it... strange?"
Rena blinked, caught off guard. "Not at all. Your skin is exceptionally pale, sure, but why would that be strange?"
Lunethia furrowed her brow slightly. "But Rhine uses it as a nickname... and whenever he says it, he gets all hesitant and tongue-tied. It makes me feel like there's something wrong with me."
Rena couldn't hold back a laugh. "It's not you who's strange, Thea. It's him."
Lunethia looked at her, clearly confused.
Rena leaned in, a mischievous glint in her narrowed eyes. "It's because you're far too beautiful. The poor boy is just shy."
A soft flush of crimson crept onto Lunethia's cheeks. "I'm... beautiful?"
"Of course you are." Rena winked. "Honestly, if I were a man, I'd stop at nothing to marry you and bring you home."
Lunethia couldn't help but laugh again, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days.
The wind continued to howl through the mountain passes, but the laughter of the two girls felt like a bright, rhythmic melody woven into the monotonous drone of the storm.
"Do you feel a bit better now?" Rena asked softly. "If you do... could you do us a massive favor and ask Gerald where exactly he hid this sanctuary?"
Lunethia offered a knowing smile. "Actually, I already did."
She reached out and pointed toward the massive drift of snow piled against the base of the crag they were sitting on. "It's right under this rock. There's a rope ladder buried deep beneath the snow. If we climb down, we'll find the entrance."
Rena froze, then crouched down with a look of half-belief. She began digging through the heavy, frozen white. Sure enough, a sturdy but weathered rope ladder gradually emerged from the depths of the snow.
"It's actually here..." Rena whispered in a daze. "It seems you don't just command the sleeping old man; you can hear his very thoughts."
"He said that since this area is perpetually buried in snow, no one would ever think to dig for a hidden path," Lunethia explained quietly. "And because the terrain is so treacherous, no one dares to get close enough to look."
"Tch. That's exactly the kind of eccentric idea only that old man could come up with." Rena sighed, pushing herself up from the snow. "I'll go tell the others."
...
Meanwhile, on a distant, wind-swept slope, Rhine was still battling the drifts in search of the sanctuary. The mountain gales were fierce, and the weight of the snow bowed the branches of the hardy evergreens around him.
His steps remained steady, but in the next heartbeat, his eyes suddenly sharpened. A phantom chill, separate from the freezing wind, began to crawl up his spine.
It was the unmistakable sensation of something lethal closing in—silent and unseen.
"Boss—!"
A shout punctured the gale. Gareth came stumbling through the snow toward him, his voice a mix of exhaustion and excitement. "We found it! Rena says the sanctuary is right under the rock!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Gareth doubled over, letting out two violent, bone-rattling sneezes.
Rhine didn't answer. His gaze slowly swept across the surrounding white slopes, his expression hardening into a mask of grim focus.
In the next instant—he reached for the bamboo tube at his waist and violently pulled the ignition cord.
Whiz—Bang!
A crimson signal flare tore through the night sky, exploding against the pale, ashen firmament in a sudden burst of blinding fire.
...
"What is that?" Lunethia looked up at the blossoming sparks, her face pale.
"An enemy attack signal!" Milia's expression shifted instantly as she unsheathed her daggers.
"Thea!" Rena shouted urgently. "Get on Gerald's horse! If we run into the enemy, push the old man off! The moment he senses killing intent, his body will fight on instinct!"
"Understood!" Lunethia didn't hesitate. she leaped into the saddle behind the snoring knight.
Owen gripped his massive warhammer, giving a solemn nod. The others drew their weapons and broke into a sprint toward the direction of the flare.
...
"Are there... really enemies?" Gareth whispered as he caught up to Rhine, his teeth chattering.
Rhine had already drawn his long blade, the steel gleaming with a cold, pale light under the crescent moon. He didn't look back, his voice low and steady.
"Maybe not." After a short silence, he added, "But I'd rather be wrong than be slow."
Before long, five hulking silhouettes emerged from the swirling snow. From a distance, they looked like hunters clad in thick furs, closing in on a trapped prey with predatory patience. But as they drew closer, the truth became clear.
They weren't human at all.
They were five monstrous hybrids—part man, part wolf. Their bodies were covered in coarse black fur, and their talons glinted like frozen daggers in the wind. Their breath billowed out in thick white clouds, but it was their eyes—glowing crimson—that held a terrifying mix of cold logic and bloodlust.
Feral instinct and human intelligence, two traits that should never coexist, were twisted together within them.
The Lycan leading the pack flexed his arm, his joints letting out a series of sharp, sickening cracks. Then, a raspy, ice-cold voice broke the silence:
"You... how did you find us?"
Rhine knit his brows. It was the first time he had ever encountered a monster capable of speech.
Rhine didn't lower his guard. He raised his heavy blade, leveling it at the lead creature, a mocking smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Our noses happen to be quite sharp," he snorted. "A pack of mangy beasts like you? We could smell that stench from miles away."
The Lycan gave a cold, jagged laugh. "We are the Shadow Unit of the Kingdom of Lunaris."
Its gaze swept over the group, its voice dropping into a low, lethal register. "We are here on orders to capture Princess Lunethia. If you are wise, you will hand her over now. Otherwise, there is only one end for you."
"Death."
Rhine let out a sharp, derisive laugh. "A few stray dogs think they can threaten me?"
Beside him, Gareth had already drawn his bow to full tension, the arrowhead locked onto the enemy. His voice was calm, but it carried a razor-edged threat. "It seems... we've been underestimated."
The lead Lycan slowly drew a curved scimitar from its waist, gripping the hilt in a reverse hold.
"Heh... No. It is you who have underestimated us."
Before the words had even fully faded, the creature lunged.
BOOM!
The snow beneath its feet erupted as it transformed into a blur of black lightning, hurtling toward Rhine. A flash of cold steel descended—the scimitar cutting through the air with a whistle.
Rhine didn't give an inch. He swung his heavy blade upward in a brutal parry.
CLANG!!
The impact sent a shower of sparks dancing through the freezing gale. In the next heartbeat, Rhine twisted his wrist, redirecting the momentum into a diagonal slash—turning his defense into a counter-strike aimed straight for the creature's shoulder.
"Hmph."
The Lycan bared its fangs in a grin. It slid across the ice, its body moving like a shadow as it drifted to the side. The heavy blade grazed the creature's black fur, but it only shredded the falling snowflakes.
Its agility was breathtaking—and terrifying.
Seeing their leader engage, the other four Lycans grew restless. Their claws extended, eyes glowing with an irrepressible hunger for the hunt.
SHIEW—!
A sharp whistle tore through the wind. An arrow shredded the snow-laden air, streaking toward one of the waiting monsters.
The creature's ear twitched. At the very last microsecond, it jerked its head aside. The arrowhead grazed its temple fur and slammed deep into the frozen earth behind it.
Gareth had already drawn his bow to full tension once more, the tip of his arrow locked onto the remaining pack.
"Don't move," he warned, his voice ice-cold. "The next one who shifts an inch gets a hole through their head."
The Lycan locked in combat with Rhine let out a raspy, arrogant roar of laughter. "Hahaha! You lot—take out that archer first!"
It unleashed a flurry of slashes, the scimitar turning into a blur of cold light. "This boy... I'm going to take my time and enjoy breaking him!"
The steel hummed again. Rhine raised his blade to block the onslaught, the sound of clashing metal exploding through the wind and snow. He used the momentum to skip half a step back, his voice low and probing.
"What exactly are you things?"
He kept his sharp gaze fixed on his opponent. "I've never seen a magical beast that could speak. Judging by your tone... you sound more like a human."
The Lycan slowly licked its long fangs, a bloodthirsty glint flashing in its crimson eyes.
"We... are the Shadow Unit of the Lunaris," it replied, its voice thick with a mix of pride and madness. "Her Majesty bestowed this power upon us, granting us bodies that transcend the limits of humanity to carry out her divine will."
Rhine's expression darkened instantly. "The power of a Witch..."
He grit his teeth, his voice dropping into a guttural growl. "So that Queen of yours... is nothing more than a filthy witch?"
The words had barely left his lips when the Lycan's face twisted in fury.
"How dare you—!!" it roared, its eyes burning with a murderous, blood-red light. "You dare defile Her Majesty's name with your wagging tongue!!"
In its blinding rage, the creature's swordsmanship became even more savage and relentless. Its blade fell like a torrential storm, seeking to shred Rhine into pieces.
But amidst the hail of strikes, Rhine suddenly shifted his grip. He snatched a flint from his belt and struck it hard against the back of his heavy blade.
CLANG—!
A sharp, crystalline ring echoed out.
In the next heartbeat, crimson flames erupted along the length of the sword. The fire danced wildly along the steel like a coiling serpent of red light, illuminating the swirling blizzard. Rhine stood at the center of the inferno, looking like a god of war emerging from the flames.
Rhine's voice thundered through the gale.
"Since you have cast aside your dignity as a human—then die like the beast you've become!"
A flash of genuine shock crossed the Lycan's eyes at the sight of the flaming blade. But a second later, it threw its head back and let out a piercing, blood-curdling howl.
"AWOOO—!"
The creature's power exploded. It became a blur across the snow, lunging once more into the fray.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the clearing...
Gareth stood alone, facing the remaining four Lycans. His bowstring remained taut, the tip of his arrow locked firmly onto them. Yet, the monsters showed not a hint of tension. Instead, they whispered among themselves, discussing the situation as if it were a trivial matter.
Who would strike first. Who would claim the kill.
Their eyes shimmered with unmasked playfulness and cruelty. The Lycan who had dodged Gareth's arrow earlier slowly stepped forward. It slammed its fists together, the heavy impact echoing with a dull thud.
"Enough," it barked with a fanged grin. "None of you touch him. He belongs to me."
It extended a jagged claw toward Gareth. "He's the one who shot at me first." The grin turned into a grotesque snarl. "So... he is my prey."
A faint, sharp smile tugged at the corner of Gareth's mouth. "What's the matter? Not going to come at me all at once?"
He gave his bow a slight, mocking shake. "Aren't you afraid of underestimating me?"
The Lycan threw its head back in a raucous laugh. "Underestimate you?"
It slowly flexed its talons, its joints clicking and snapping as it began a leisurely, confident advance. "With the power bestowed upon us by Her Majesty... my contempt for you is, in itself, an honor you should cherish."
It licked its fangs, its voice dripping with sadistic mockery. "If I weren't so curious to test the limits of this new strength... I would have torn you to shreds already."
Gareth let out a cold snort. "Arrogant."
The bowstring vibrated with a sudden snap—TWANG!
An arrow tore through the air!
The Lycan was already prepared. With a lightning-fast motion, it raised a clawed hand—SMACK!
It caught the flying arrow mid-air.
The creature looked down at the shaft in its palm and snapped it effortlessly with one hand. Crack. The broken wood fell into the snow. The Lycan looked up, its fangs bared in a wide, mocking smile. "Go on then. Keep struggling. Entertain me."
Gareth's gaze darkened.
The bowstring vibrated in rapid succession—Twang! Twang! Twang!
Three arrows streaked through the air in a perfect line, aimed with lethal precision at the Lycan's chest, throat, and brow.
Yet, the creature simply blurred. With a light tap of its foot against the snow, it drifted and spiraled like a ghostly shadow. All three arrows whistled past, striking nothing but frozen air.
The monster was now closing the distance, its form looming large.
"What's the matter, archer?" the Lycan laughed, its voice growing more derisive. "Are your eyes failing you? Can't even hit a moving target?"
Gareth's expression shifted, a flicker of feigned panic crossing his face. He quickly slung his bow across his back and drew a short dagger from his belt, offering a bitter, helpless smile.
"You already know I'm an archer..." he grumbled. "Can't you at least have the decency not to force me into a melee?"
In the distance, the other three Lycans watched with rapt interest. One of them barked out a shout, "Number Four! Don't finish him too quickly! Leave some of the fun for us!"
Another laughed raucously. "The redhead facing Number Two is already a dead man anyway!"
Number Four came to a halt, momentarily ceasing its advance. It looked back at its comrades with a mischievous, cruel glint in its eyes. "No way. Didn't we agree? One prey per hunter."
It turned its gaze back to Gareth. "Go find your own targets."
At that moment, Gareth's face went cold. The playfulness vanished instantly.
"One... per target?"
A name flashed through his mind like a lightning strike: Milia.
His pupils contracted sharply. If each of these monsters had a specific target, then that meant...
Gareth slowly raised his head. The hesitation in his eyes had been replaced by a chilling, lethal resolve.
"In that case," he whispered, his voice steady and dangerous. "I'll just have to finish all of you as quickly as possible."
Number Four blinked, then erupted into a fit of laughter. It bared its full set of serrated fangs, its expression a mask of sadistic mockery.
"If you think you can do it—then by all means, try."
The jagged claws rose slowly. Between the swirls of the blizzard, a thick, suffocating killing intent began to saturate the air.
Right at that moment—from the far side of the snowfields—several figures were closing in at a breakneck pace. The rhythmic crunch of boots against the frozen crust was sharp and urgent.
"Boss—!"
Rena, spear in hand, led the charge. She shouted at the top of her lungs, "We're here!"
Milia followed close behind her. As her gaze fell upon the hulking dark silhouettes in the distance, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What are those? Magical creatures?"
Owen, however, narrowed his eyes and studied them for a moment before a slow, easy grin spread across his face.
"Hmm... they look more like a bunch of lunatics wearing wolf-head masks," he remarked, rolling his shoulders as if he were settling in for a show. "I'll knock one off in a bit and check. Who knows? It might actually look pretty cool on me."
Not far away, the remaining Lycans slowly turned their heads. Their crimson gazes swept over the new arrivals. One of them began to count under its breath, its voice a hollow rasp.
"One... two... three..."
Its mouth peeled back into a jagged grin. "Plus... Princess Lunethia." Its eyes drifted to the Gerald behind her. "And... her guardians."
The voice was ice-cold, devoid of any human emotion. "Excellent. This works perfectly. One for each of us."
Slowly, the creature raised its jagged claws. "First, we clear the perimeter. Then, we slaughter the guardians." Finally, its gaze locked onto Lunethia with a look of terrifying fervor. "And in the end—we bring the Princess home... to have her audience with Her Majesty."
In the distance, the Lycan currently locked in combat with Rhine—Number Two—overheard his comrade's words and let out a jagged laugh.
"Heh... since the new toys have arrived—" Its eyes suddenly flashed with a surge of savage cruelty. "I suppose I'm done playing with you."
The creature unleashed a sudden, explosive burst of power!
BOOM!
The snow beneath its feet shattered as it lunged. Its scimitar carved a lethal, frigid arc through the air, descending with a roar of unadulterated killing intent.
"Die like a good little dog!!"
The blade screamed down, aimed directly for Rhine's neck.
...
The wind howled through the mountain passes. The sounds of battle echoed against the peaks like the freezing gale itself. Bloodlust and killing intent were quietly seeping into this sleeping, white world.
But the true slaughter—the real game—had only just begun.