[The Next Day]
The snow had intensified overnight, blanketing the entire region of Frostpeak in a stunning vista of silver and white. Richard stood by the training yard, watching as the knights diligently prepared the robust carriage that would transport him north.
Every breath he took emerged as mist.
Lucien hurried toward him, carrying a satchel filled with potent recovery tonics and a small, well-honed dagger.
'Everything is ready, Young Master. Sir Gareth--a tier 7 swordsman and Elwin--a 6th-circle mage will accompany you precisely as instructed.'
'Excellent,' Richard nodded, adjusting the heavy cloak around his shoulders.
As the stable hands finished securing the last of the supplies, Duke Voltair appeared on the steps of the manor.
His powerful presence immediately brought all activity to a halt.
'Richard,' the Duke called.
Richard looked back.
'Be careful,' Voltair finished.
Richard gave a wry smirk at that, and without breaking stride, moved toward the carriage. Voltair's bold eyes followed as Richard boarded the vehicle.
Soon, the carriage eased forward through the manor gates, its wheels carrying them into the cold stretch of road ahead. Richard settled into the cushioned seat. Elwin, a seasoned man in his fifties with gray through his beard, stayed attentive within the cabin. Sir Gareth adjusted the greatsword secured across his armor, preparing himself for the journey ahead.
--
The journey north was cold and tedious. For two full days, the carriage wheels ground loudly over frozen earth and packed snow. Richard spent the time observing the passing landscape: dense, dark pine forests that bordered the wild, unforgiving mountains. He had heard of this region; it was historically a hunting ground.
They reached the first settlement, Oakhaven, on the third day.
It was a small, desolate cluster of weathered wooden houses huddled tightly against the biting wind. The villagers who emerged looked gaunt and terrified.
Gareth spoke first, in a commanding voice. 'We are here under the Duke's direct order. What exactly has been happening here?'
The village elder, a trembling man, stepped hesitantly forward. 'Sir Knight, it is the Crimsonfang Wolves. They have always kept to the forests, but now they attack in broad daylight. They are bigger, faster, and unlike the beasts we remember.'
'Crimsonfang Wolves?' Richard murmured, recalling the creatures from his old textbooks. They were troublesome, yet a modest patrol could easily disperse them.
'Show us the tracks,' Richard instructed.
The elder led them to the immediate edge of the forest line. The snow there was heavily churned, and a distinct, coppery smell--the unmistakable scent of blood--hung in the air. Gareth immediately pointed to a clear set of paw prints.
'Impossible,' he muttered, kneeling to examine them. 'These are undeniably a wolf's, but look at the sheer size. And the claw depth. A regular Crimsonfang does not possess this much weight.'
Suddenly, Elwin, the mage, sharply interrupted Gareth. 'There's mana in the atmosphere, but…it is severely unusual. I think...it's corrupted.'
Corrupted mana was not a natural phenomenon; it strongly indicated a deliberate, hostile, and malign influence. This meant that there was probably an intrusion by a dangerous outside force.
They followed the tracks deeper into the woods, leaving the fearful villagers behind them. The silence of the woods became thick and oppressive.
After an hour, they reached a small, partially frozen stream. The tracks led directly across it into a shadowy clearing.
'Remain behind me,' Gareth warned, slowly drawing his sword. 'I hear something moving.'
Richard and Elwin positioned themselves cautiously behind the knight. Elwin began charging a defensive spell. An anxious blue glow enveloped his trembling hands.
Suddenly, they heard a loud sound: a guttural, wet snarl, followed by a sickening, unmistakable wet crunch.
Gareth crept to the edge of the clearing and instantly froze.
He didn't speak; he slowly raised his hand, palm flat, the universal signal for an immediate, silent retreat.
Richard felt a chill that had nothing to do with the freezing air. The sound of tearing flesh continued, far too loud and far too deep.
As the wet crunching finally ceased, the creature seemingly paused its meal.
The soft stir of pine needles was the only sound left. Richard listened harder, and caught something--the movement of something immense adjusting its weight.
Everything seemed to tighten around him, charged with a dark presence that felt aware.
The presumed beast in the clearing, the origin of the chilling vacuum around the three men, suddenly unleashed a challenging snarl.
The sound was as if a predator was allowing its prey one last moment of dread.
'Elwin, fall back fifty paces. Establish a defensive line. Use the surrounding area,' Richard commanded firmly despite the adrenaline surging through him. He did not extend Elwin the opportunity to object.
Gareth instantly drew his greatsword. 'Young Master, that creature is obviously enormous. We must retreat together.'
'No. We cannot run,' Richard asserted, assessing the monster's speed and bulk. 'There is no way we're outrunning that thing. Fighting is the only option.'
Richard produced the sturdy dagger Lucien had secured for him.
He focused some of his mana, channeling it exclusively for speed and strength augmentation.
'Gareth, hold the center. Avoid fighting deep,' Richard instructed, stepping from the cover of the trees, dagger held near the ground. 'I will distract it toward the edges.'
'You'll distract it?' "YOUNG MASTER, THAT'S SUICIDE!" Gareth yelled.
'No, Captain,' Richard stated. 'It is our single chance to wound it and pull back together.'
Richard disregarded Gareth's distress and sprinted toward the clearing's edge. His Haste-enhanced legs devoured the distance.
The creature charged as well, exposing itself from the clearing as a massive Gorefang Bear!
It was a creature known especially for its extremely tough hide.
The Gorefang bear, having revealed itself, instantly lunged at Richard's position.
The pressure from the beast's charge was prodigious. Richard evaded the attack with uncanny speed. Since he lacked the strength for a direct confrontation, he employed strategy.
As the beast turned its massive head, Richard drove his dagger, now enhanced by wind magic for penetration, right into the Gorefang's eye.
The blade plunged deep and the Bear wailed in agony and fury.
"NOW, GARETH!" Richard bellowed.
Gareth, astonished by the youth's bold strike, acted without delay and struck the monster's resilient hide with his greatsword.
CLANG!
A dull, metallic jolt.
The greatsword, designed to cleave steel, only bit a few inches deep into the bear's jagged hide before grinding to a stop. The blow drew blood, but it was trivial, resulting in not more than a simple scratch.
The wounded Gorefang, now enraged, barely registered the attack.
It immediately spun, and swiped at Gareth.
The knight raised his sword defensively, yet the momentum of the attack was too great. Gareth was lifted from his feet and slammed into a thick pine tree.
"YOU PITBORN-FILTH," Richard cursed. He was struggling against the debilitating weakness from the fading Haste Spell, recognizing the battle was about to turn disastrous.
The Gorefang Bear ignored the downed knight and redirected its fury entirely toward Elwin, the weaker target retreating toward the defensive line.
The mage was frantically trying to collect mana for an attack spell, but his hands shook too violently from the backlash of the tremendous mana required for the defensive barrier.
Richard knew he couldn't let the bear reach Elwin, or the mage would be crushed. He concentrated most of his remaining mana into an emergency spell: Repulsion.
A vast, invisible wall of force erupted from Richard's hands, striking the Gorefang's already injured flank. The spell required the power of a 5th circle mage, a level which Richard had not yet reached.
K-RAK!
The Gorefang's massive body was thrown sideways, interrupting its charge.
On the other hand, the reckless attack nearly shattered Richard's arms and shoulders. He stumbled backward. He felt a searing, sharp surge of pain through his chest: the clear indication of mana depletion and physical strain damaging his mana core a little.
The bear roared, shaking off the blow, but the interruption bought Elwin the vital seconds he needed. The mage's eyes snapped wide, glowing with a sudden, fierce light.
"DIE BASTARD!" Elwin roared, abandoning his defensive preparation. He gathered all his remaining power and launched a volatile fire spell: Volcanic Burst.
A shimmering sphere of fire and rock slammed into the Gorefang's chest. The impact was imperfect, but the fierce heat proved devastating. The beast's hide sizzled and smoked.
It's vitality was slowly decreasing.
Gareth, still recovering from the earlier blow, rolled onto his knees and saw his opportunity. He ignored the injury in his body, grabbed his sword, and launched into a short run, perceiving the exact location for the final strike.
Richard, bracing himself against a tree and fighting the waves of exhaustion, had somehow recovered a little bit of mana in the meantime.
He raised a trembling hand and articulated a concluding, indistinct wind spell. He concentrated the minuscule mana on the area between the Gorefang's ribs, creating a momentary vacuum.
Gareth, fortunately, saw this move by Richard. His sword, driven by an undying will, plunged into the Gorefang's side. The blade passed through the heat-softened hide and, guided by Richard's unseen gap, drove deep into the beast's vital organs.
The gigantic Gorefang Bear let out one final, desolate, shaking breath. Its legs failed, and it collapsed onto the frozen ground with a bone-jarring thud.
Peace returned to the area.
Richard slid down the tree he was leaning against, allowing himself to rest on the ground.
They had won, but the cost was extreme.
Richard, in particular, had pushed his young body far past its safe limit.
Gareth limped over and planted his bloodied greatsword in the snow. He looked at the fallen giant, then the spent mage, and at Richard.
'Young Master,' Gareth stated. 'Y-you were magnificent.'
Richard remained motionless, staring at the sky blankly with a smile on his face, and losing consciousness shortly afterwards.
Gareth immediately rushed over to Richard's side and checked his pulse, which was weak and inconsistent. "ELWIN! QUICK! GET OVER HERE!"
Elwin dragged himself nearer. He placed a trembling hand over the boy's chest. His eyes expanded in shock.
'His core...it's almost completely destroyed. He forced a 5th circle spell on his 4th circle body and then...divines, he cast another one.'
Elwin hardened as he understood. 'He is experiencing Mana Shock, a punishment mages have to pay when they exhaust their core. It may lead to the mage becoming paralyzed for several months.'
'Can you fix it, even a little?' Gareth demanded.
'I can stabilize the flow of the mana, but the damage is mainly in the core. We must transport him to the Duchy's healers,' Elwin responded somberly.
'What are we waiting for then? Let's move!,' Gareth stated, as he charged himself up from the ground.
--
They spent the subsequent hour working under duress. The urgency of their situation overshadowed their injuries, compelling them to focus on securing their survival. Gareth, despite being injured as well, managed to partially butcher the massive carcass, securing the cranium and large hide samples as proof. Then, they built a sturdy gurney from fresh pine branches. They didn't need anything else. They just wanted to leave.
They carried the wounded heir through Oakhaven and toward the carriage.
The villagers stepped forward with warm greetings, only for their cheer to drain as soon as the gurney appeared. Unease spread through the crowd, though no one dared voice a single question.
--
The journey back to Frostpeak took longer than expected.
The need for safety forced them to take an extended, protected route. Gareth kept check of the Gorefang materials, while Elwin maintained a constant, minimal restorative charm on Richard, keeping the boy's life signs stable.
As they ultimately approached the outer walls of the Frostpeak Manor late on the fifth night, they met a border patrol conducting their routine rounds. The guards who saw them halted, staring first at the huge, bloodied Gorefang cranium attached to the carriage, and then at the unconscious Young Master.
The patrol promptly sent a rider ahead to notify the Duke.
News of the disastrous but successful mission spread faster than wildfire.
Within the hour, Richard was moved into the sterile, high-walled Healing Chamber.
And Gareth and Elwin, refusing any aid for their own injuries, were instantly summoned to Duke Voltair's study.
--
[In the Duke's Office]
The Duke sat behind his oak desk. His face was inscrutable as he examined the Gorefang's cranium displayed temporarily in the courtyard beneath.
'The reports were accurate,' Voltair observed. 'Now, give me the full account. Every piece of information.'
Gareth and Elwin narrated the entire fight: Richard's command, his desperate flank attack, the destructive dagger strike to the eye, his urgent use of Fifth-Circle magic, and the resulting Mana Shock. They omitted nothing.
Voltair heard the account without speaking. When they finished, he finally looked up. 'You said he fought like a veteran. And then he drove his body to ruin?'
'Your Grace, the damage is serious. He will survive, but his core will be unable to access anything beyond rudimentary, First-Circle mana for atleast a month. Any forced physical activity could risk permanent damage. He requires specialized, non-magical care and time for full recovery.' Elwin responded.
Voltair rose. 'Very well, you may seek rest until your own wounds are treated but take that day's lesson as a reality check. You two are far too weak. Both of you are experienced veterans, yet you say that you performed exceptionally worse than a fourteen-year old boy who has never fought in his entire life.'
'Dismissed,' Voltair instructed.
Gareth and Elwin bowed respectfully. They exchanged a look of embarrassment before turning and exiting the study.
---