Just as the boar-man's massive, fan-like hand was about to strike Lina's face—
A flash of silver cut through the storm.
Cold. Precise. Faster than the falling snow.
"—khh—"
The sound was faint. Almost nothing.
A blade entering flesh.
The charging boar-man froze mid-motion.
The savagery on his face shattered, replaced by disbelief. Slowly, stiffly, he lowered his gaze.
A sword tip had pierced through his chest.
Blood slid down the steel, dripping onto the snow below—each drop blooming into a vivid red, like plum blossoms staining white silk.
Behind him—
Colin stood.
Silent.
Still.
Like a ghost that had always been there.
He gripped a human officer's command sword, his expression empty, his deep blue eyes colder than frozen water.
The boar-man's mouth opened.
Nothing came out—only a wet gurgle, blood foaming at his lips.
His body swayed.
Then collapsed.
"Thud."
Snow burst upward.
Then—stillness.
Kill: Quilboar — +8 kill points
The dozen or so boar-men behind him stiffened instantly.
Arrogance vanished.
Provocation died.
In its place—
Fear.
Before they could react, Colin's gaze had already fallen on them.
There was no anger in it.
No killing intent.
Only indifference.
As if he were looking at objects.
"Leave some room for life."
Four words.
Flat. Cold. Absolute.
The guards beside Lina flinched.
For a fraction of a second, they hesitated.
Then they saw him.
Really saw him.
And something inside them snapped into place.
They roared.
The ferocity of the Broken Tooth tribe erupted without restraint.
Steel flashed.
Bodies collided.
Screams tore through the air—then were cut short.
It ended quickly.
Too quickly.
In less than ten breaths, sixteen boar-men lay on the ground, writhing or already still.
Colin stepped forward.
Without a word.
Without hesitation.
One stab.
Another.
And another.
Kill: Quilboar — +1 kill pointKill: Quilboar — +1 kill point...
Looks like I'll have to do it myself from now on.
The thought passed through his mind.
His face did not change.
When it was over, the snow was no longer white.
More than a dozen corpses lay scattered, their blood soaking deep into the ground beneath them.
Silence fell.
Total.
Absolute.
The entire camp froze.
Crying stopped.
Arguing ceased.
Even the wind seemed distant.
Hundreds of eyes locked onto Colin.
Wide.
Terrified.
Like prey staring at something far beyond their understanding.
Bodies trembled.
No one dared move.
No one dared breathe too loudly.
Colin slowly withdrew his blade.
Blood slid from the edge in slow, deliberate drops.
His gaze swept across the crowd.
Where it passed—
Heads lowered instantly.
Instinctively.
"Looks like I was too lenient."
His voice wasn't loud.
But it struck like iron.
"You've been here less than two days… and you already dare to overturn the table?"
No one spoke.
No one could.
"I pulled you out of the snow," he continued, stepping forward. His boots crunched softly against blood-soaked ice.
"I gave you shelter. Gave you food."
Each word landed heavier than the last.
"Not so you could fight over scraps like starving cubs."
Another step.
Closer.
Closer.
To them—
He was no longer a savior.
He was something else.
Something colder.
Something inevitable.
"From this moment on—"
His voice rose.
Not in anger—
But in authority.
"Blackwood Fortress Emergency Decree."
"First."
"Absolute obedience."
"Anyone who can move will be assigned work. Logging. Quarrying. Guard duty. Logistics."
"Lina is in charge."
His eyes swept the crowd.
"Slackers will receive twenty lashes. Repeat offenders—"
He tilted the blade toward the corpses.
"—will join them."
"Second."
"Equal rations."
"No one takes more. No one hides food."
"Violators will be starved for three days and forced to double their labor."
"Severe cases—execution."
"Third."
"No private fighting."
"Any disputes go through Goff's guards."
"Anyone who strikes first—detained."
"If someone is injured…"
His voice flattened further.
"They die."
Three decrees.
Simple.
Brutal.
Unarguable.
Each backed by fresh corpses still steaming in the cold.
The crowd shrank into itself.
Silence deepened.
Thick. Suffocating.
Colin's gaze swept them one final time.
Then, almost casually, he asked:
"Does anyone object… to the food distribution?"
Nothing.
Not a whisper.
Not a breath.
Heads bowed lower.
Colin turned.
Walked back as if nothing had happened.
"Continue distributing the porridge."
And just like that—
Order returned.
The line reformed.
Quietly.
Mechanically.
Each person stepped forward, received their thin portion, and left without a word.
No complaints.
No resistance.
Not even eye contact.
Control had been restored.
Efficiently.
Absolutely.
But something else had changed.
Hope—
Faded.
Gratitude—
Gone.
In their place—
Awe.
Fear.
Distance.
An invisible wall, built from blood and silence, rose between Colin and the three hundred he had saved.
And over the camp—
Like a web spun in darkness—
Tension settled.
Tight.
Unseen.
Unbreakable.