Dozens of ice blades surged toward the Minotaurs, carving sharp trajectories through the air. Hiyalkho remained suspended in midair, confronting the multitude of Minotaurs alone.
It was then.
Clang—Click.
The sound of sharpened metal gear began to approach from within the darkness.
Daroon and Tirrellda were charging toward the Minotaurs' encampment.
Each time Daroon's foot stamped down on the hard-packed earth, small stones scattered into the air.
His halberd, slung over his shoulder, swayed left and right in rhythm with his strides.
Daroon's eyes had already locked onto the target his halberd must strike—the Minotaur standing at the edge of the encampment, axe in hand.
The Minotaur noticed Daroon's approach too late. When Daroon's form, shrouded in the shadows of the bonfires, suddenly emerged into the light, the Minotaur's eyes widened in shock. Reflexively, he raised his two-handed axe overhead, preparing to bring it crashing down.
But Daroon had already anticipated the move. He leaned forward, lowering his stance. As the axe blade whistled through the air above his head with a whoosh, Daroon's halberd was already sweeping in a wide arc from the side.
"Uwaaaak!"
The halberd's keen axe blade sank into the Minotaur's left flank. Flesh and muscle tore apart, hot blood spurting forth.
The Minotaur toppled sideways like a massive tree felled, his axe clattering to the ground with a resounding clang.
Daroon did not glance back at the fallen Minotaur. His legs were already propelling him toward the next one, his halberd returning to an offensive posture. His breathing remained steady and deep. The battle had only just begun.
Tirrellda's movements were utterly unlike Daroon's. She glided forward as if the wind itself were brushing across the ground.
Her toes barely made a sound upon touching the earth, and her long, flowing cloak rippled behind her like waves.
In her hand was an ice sword manifested through the power of mana.
The blade was crafted from transparent ice, yet within it shimmered a blue light. Around the edge of the sword, tiny ice crystals continually formed and dissipated in repetition.
"Breath of the glacier, open the path!"
As Tirrellda chanted while running, invoking the spirit's power, a chilling aura enveloped her entire body. Soon, intense cold radiated outward from her, spreading rapidly along the ground. The frost flowed across the earth, instantly encasing the encampment's floor in ice.
Two Minotaurs charging from ahead stepped onto that ice.
Due to their heavy bulk and running speed, their feet began to slip. The first Minotaur lost his balance and pitched forward, while the second tumbled backward, slamming his back hard against the ground.
"Wuuuuuooooo!"
The fallen Minotaurs cried out in confusion, but Tirrellda was already leaping over them. Her body spun once in midair, her ice sword glinting in the moonlight. Upon landing, she plunged deep into the heart of the encampment.
"Págoi! Págoi pantachou!" (Ice! Ice everywhere!)
The Minotaurs screamed in terrified voices. Some rolled aside to dodge the ice blades, but Tirrellda's sword was faster than they. Wherever the ice sword grazed, deep wounds appeared, and cold seeped into them, freezing the injuries and blood solid.
As one Minotaur reached to pull an ice shard embedded in his chest, the fragment burrowed deeper. He staggered, screaming in agony.
It was at that moment that Hiyalkho lunged at the Minotaur. The tip of the spirit sword pierced deep into the Minotaur's shoulder, and Hiyalkho twisted the blade viciously.
-Crackle-crunch-
"Hahaha! This isn't enough!"
With Hiyalkho's resonant laughter, the ice shard lodged in the Minotaur's body exploded. First came a small cracking sound, followed by a booming blast.
The Minotaur's shoulder shattered into pieces, ice fragments scattering in all directions. A wave of frigid energy rippled from his body, turning the flowing blood into red ice in an instant.
"Gaaaagh!"
The Minotaur groaned in excruciating pain and dropped to his knees. His eyes were filled with disbelief. His entire shoulder was frozen solid, immovable, and the chill was creeping up his neck.
"Tí téchne estin?!" (What sorcery is this?!)
Another Minotaur watching from afar cried out in horror. He gripped his massive double-bladed axe with both hands and charged toward Hiyalkho. His footsteps thundered against the ground, the axe blades flashing in the air.
But Hiyalkho, upon seeing this, whirled in place with delight, producing a whooshing whirl while spinning round and round.
First one rotation, then two—the sword generated gusts of cold wind with each turn. As the Minotaur swung his axe downward, Hiyalkho deflected it sideways, altering its trajectory.
The axe grazed past Hiyalkho's side and slammed into the ground. In that instant, Hiyalkho had already circled to the Minotaur's opposite flank. He then skimmed past the Minotaur's side.
"Too slow! Minotaur! This won't satisfy me at all!"
Hiyalkho's voice carried clear disappointment.
Where the blade had passed, ice slithered upward like a serpent, coiling around the Minotaur's body. His movements began to stiffen. First his ankles froze, then his knees, and finally up to his waist as the ice spread.
The Minotaur stared down at his body in abject terror. He tried to move, but his lower half was completely encased in ice. White vapor began to escape from his mouth.
Hiyalkho responded with a short, humming buzz toward the Minotaur. He rotated sharply, slicing through the air, then flew straight at the Minotaur's neck. This time, long, pointed ice spikes erupted from his blade, piercing the throat. In that moment, another burst of cold exploded, enveloping the surroundings.
The Minotaur collapsed to the ground without a sound. His entire body was shrouded in ice, utterly still.
Just then, from the far side of the encampment, the sound of a horn trumpet resounded.
Booooooooo! Booooooooo!
The unfamiliar horn blast echoed across the forest. Its thick, deep vibration traveled along the tree trunks, causing leaves to tremble faintly. Birds slumbering throughout the woods startled awake, flapping their wings and scattering into the treetops.
The Minotaurs froze in place momentarily, ears perked. Their expressions mingled awe and obedience, as if they had finally heard a long-awaited signal.
"Stratēgós!" (The commander!)
"Stratēge!" (Commander!)
The cries rang out like a single command.
The Minotaurs, who had been frozen as if encased in ice, began to move in unison. Those scattered in combat turned without any signal, charging toward the center of the encampment. Their hooves pounded the earth with forceful echoes.
As their massive forms moved as one mass, even the surrounding air grew heavy and oppressive. In their eyes was no longer the confusion of scattered individuals, but a clear intent responding to someone.
In the heart of the encampment, a colossal shadow slowly materialized.
Its size appeared twice that of an ordinary one.
As the immense shadow stepped into the bonfire's light, its identity was revealed.
It was the Minotaur commander.
His height noticeably surpassed Daroon's, and his massive shoulders and the horns protruding above his armor dominated the space with each step.
With every stride, the ground rumbled lowly, his mere presence weighing down the air.
The black iron armor enveloping the gigantic Minotaur caught the eye first.
This was no ordinary armor. It bore the etched memories of countless battles. The breastplate had a deep axe gouge, with bent metal traces around it. On the abdomen was a hole as if pierced by a spear, meticulously repaired but still bearing scars.
The arm sections were dotted with blackened scorch marks from flames, irregularly scattered like islands on a map, each narrating a fierce moment in combat. The shoulders bore serrated scratches, likely from some beast's claws.
Upon his head rested a helmet forged from metal. Made of black iron, its surface was engraved with intricate patterns. But most striking were the two enormous horns affixed to either side. They seemed like actual bull horns overlaid with metal, their tips honed to razor sharpness like blades. Spiral grooves ran along their surfaces, catching the light and sparkling whenever the commander's helmeted head moved.
Yet, what truly drew the gaze was something else.
Perched upon the Minotaur commander's left shoulder was a small, bizarre figure.
Its height fell short of even 2 cubits (about 1 meter), with limbs short and withered like dried leather.
It scarcely moved, maintaining a fixed posture while staring straight ahead.
Its face was concealed by a grotesque mask carved from wood.
The mask, fashioned from dark wood, bore patterns scraped in with a knife, tangled and chaotic.
From the eye holes flickered red lights, pulsing unevenly—brightening and dimming in cycles.
In the figure's hand dangled a peculiar necklace woven from wooden fragments.
Each small piece was inscribed with minute glyphs, and as they swayed, a dry clicking sound ensued.
The irregular clicks continued without pause, at uneven intervals.
"Ti symbainei edō?!" (What is happening here?!)
The commander's voice boomed across the entire encampment. It was thick and deep, yet laced with a sharp, intimidating edge.
In his right hand, he wielded a double-bladed axe larger than Daroon's halberd. The haft was as long as his own height, and the blades at both ends gleamed with a blue hue under the moonlight. Rough letters were etched into the surfaces of the axe heads.
His left hand held a massive iron shield, large enough to cover nearly his entire body. At its center was a relief of a bull's head. Small rubies were embedded in the bull's eyes, flashing red when caught by the firelight.
Just then, the masked figure perched on the commander's shoulder stirred. It carefully detached a single wooden fragment from the necklace and placed it upon its palm. The piece trembled faintly on the hand, and a subtle green glow began to seep from its surface.
The figure clenched the fragment tightly and muttered incomprehensible words. Its voice resembled wind whispering through leaves.
"Krrr... ukash... mor'dan..."
In that instant, the wooden fragment crackled and crumbled within its grasp. The shattered pieces slipped through its fingers and fell, vanishing the moment they touched the ground.
Suddenly, strange occurrences began throughout the encampment. The bonfires that Hiyalkho had frozen and extinguished reignited one by one. Tiny embers appeared first, growing steadily until red flames roared back to life. Even those completely encased in ice had flames bursting through the frost.