Third Person’s POV

Without pausing to think or confirm, she twisted her body slightly and hurled the blade toward her left, precisely in the direction where her maid Claire had been walking just a few feet away from her.

The short sword spun through the air like a rotating crescent of blue light, slicing forward with a sharp, piercing whistle that cut through the storm.

A split second later, a wet, slicing sound followed the throw.

Blood burst into the white expanse and splattered across the snow in stark contrast as a severed wolf’s head was sent flying, its body collapsing a heartbeat later.

The suddenness of it all left everyone momentarily stunned, but none more so than Claire herself.

She stumbled backward in terror, and her legs gave way as she fell onto the snow, instinctively scrambling back on her hands and knees.

Her face had turned pale, and her expression was filled with raw fear.

Reflected within her trembling pupils was the massive head of a white wolf, nearly the size of her torso, its jaws still parted as if frozen mid-lunge before it hit the ground and rolled toward her in a grotesque motion.

A mixture of disgust and horror flooded her mind as the severed head bounced across the snow, while the wolf’s decapitated body, propelled by its earlier momentum, slid forward and collapsed nearby.

But she had no time to recover.

Before her racing heart could settle even slightly, another blur of white burst from the snow-covered ground as a second wolf lunged toward her from the side with its jaws wide open and fangs glistening with cold hunger.

A terrified scream tore from her throat as her mind went blank and her body froze.

She had no experience in such sudden, life threatening encounters, and these wolves, moving with practiced precision, had clearly targeted her as the weakest link by ambushing her from blind angles.

Yet before the beast could reach her, a second blue blade flashed in the air.

It sliced through the air with even greater speed, striking the airborne wolf with lethal precision as it split its head cleanly in two from the side.

Its momentum carried the severed halves past her before they crashed into the snow.

The wolves had never even perceived the counterattacks, as the flashing blades were too fast for their instincts to react and too sharp for their bodies to resist.

This time, a heavy spray of blood rained down upon Claire.

It stained her clothes and skin as the metallic scent filled her senses, causing her to scream again, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear, revulsion, and shock.

But the wolves cared little for her distress.

If anything, the scent of fresh blood only drove them further into a frenzy.

From all directions, white shapes began to emerge from the snow.

Their bodies blended seamlessly with the storm as they charged toward the group with feral aggression, their low growls barely audible over the wind.

In response, twin streaks of blue light cut through the battlefield.

Arlene’s short swords moved under her precise control and danced through the air like extensions of her will as they spun, darted, and struck with deadly efficiency, as they tore through the advancing wolves.

Within mere seconds, nearly ten wolves fell, and their bodies collapsed into the snow as the blades carved through flesh and bone alike.

These were no ordinary weapons.

They were magic treasures that had been refined and bound to her soul and body.

It was the reason why it responded directly to her mana and guided through her soul sense while maintaining such flawless coordination and speed with deadly accuracy.

Compared to traditional spellcasting, this method of dealing harm through a soul bound magic treasure was far more efficient.

It conserved her mana while delivering rapid and lethal attacks at the same time, though such a technique was not something that could be learned freely, as it was a closely guarded inheritance of her royal lineage.

Even so, Arlene understood her limits that no matter how effective her technique was, her strength and mana reserves were not enough to sustain prolonged combat against an entire pack.

More importantly, she knew that the armored aura master who was more than capable of annihilating these wolves with ease would not intervene proactively unless her life was in immediate danger.

He was bound by the strict interpretation of his duty that he had been assigned in this expedition, so she adapted by using her brain.

Without hesitation, she grabbed Claire and, after pulling her closer, retreated toward the armored master’s position.

She intended to use his presence as a shield and lighten the all direction assault she was currently facing all alone.

She continued to control her blades with unwavering focus and vigilance as she moved near him.

Nearby, the armored man stood firm amidst the chaos with his massive broadsword, cleaving through the charging wolves with heavy, decisive swings.

Each of his strikes crushed bone and scattered blood across the snow as he dealt with the beasts that dared approach him head-on.

To any amateur fighter watching the battle unfold from a distance, it would have seemed that the armored master was already using every ounce of his strength as he forced himself to hold back the endless tide of white wolves that came at them again and again through the storm like a living flood of fangs and claws.

His every swing looked heavy and forceful, while each movement carried the appearance of effort and urgency, as if he were already engaged in a difficult struggle where a single mistake could prove costly.

But in reality, the truth was entirely different.

He had not used even the slightest trace of the cultivated aura that slumbered within his body.

Everything he had shown so far was merely the product of his naturally powerful physique, years of battlefield tempering, and his fighting instincts that had been sharpened through real combat.

All of these factors allowed him to cleave through the charging wolves with ordinary martial force alone while completely preserving his true power.