Third Person’s POV

The vast white snowfield around them gradually lost its untouched purity and became stained with spreading arcs of bright red blood, while broken bodies, severed limbs, and torn fur disappeared beneath fresh layers of falling snow almost as quickly as they fell.

The once quiet storm had also changed.

What had earlier been only the mournful sound of wind now carried the dying cries of wolves, the wet sounds of flesh being torn apart, and the savage howls of those beasts still rushing forward in blind frenzy, making the entire forest feel darker and more sinister than before.

Soon, Arlene arrived beside the armored master with her young maid close behind her.

She was dragging the trembling girl with her while maintaining control over her floating twin blades.

The moment she merged her position with his, the pressure upon her immediately lessened, as the wolves that had earlier surrounded her from multiple directions were now forced into a narrower line of attack.

Her decision was quick and intelligent, and the armored master noticed it at once.

Yet he did not grow displeased at her decision to use his presence as a shield to lessen the danger around herself and her maid.

Instead, a trace of approval surfaced quietly in his heart as he realized that the princess possessed more than noble status and inherited talent.

Instead, a trace of approval quietly surfaced within his heart, as he realized once more that this young princess possessed far more than noble birth, elegant manners, and inherited talent.

She possessed battlefield awareness.

She understood how to reduce pressure at the right moment, how to use stronger allies as fixed anchors within a chaotic battlefield, and how to preserve her own strength for a prolonged fight rather than wasting it for empty pride.

Such instincts could not be taught easily.

They were either born from intelligence or forged through hardship, and it made him admire her slightly.

Thus, the three of them held their ground together amidst the storm, Arlene’s twin enchanted blades flashing through the air like blue streaks of death while the armored master’s broadsword rose and fell with brutal certainty, every strike sending another wolf tumbling into the snow.

Arlene didn’t need to worry about the ice golem and the coffin he was carrying, as to her surprise, the ice golem had gone dormant the moment the wolf pack had appeared.

It didn’t attack the wolves, and the wolves also seemed to fear its large size and the deep, chilly, and dominating aura it released, their feral instincts warning them to stay clear of this creature.

So, they completely ignored the huge ice golem and the coffin it was carrying on its back.

Yet while their side stabilized, another problem gradually drew their attention, and it was the fact that old man Caspian was struggling badly against the endless horde of white wolves.

A short distance away, the elderly guide stood in a disordered patch of trampled snow as he manipulated streams of icy wind around himself like rough whips, lashing outward in circles to keep the wolves from closing in too near.

The method was clever enough for defense, but its power was clearly lacking as the wolves struck by those icy lashes were only pushed back or staggered momentarily before leaping in again with renewed savagery.

He did not seem capable of killing even one of them.

Instead, he appeared to be barely surviving through experience and timing alone.

As for his grandson, the same young man who had boasted loudly before Arlene near the Twin Fang Mountains had become pitiful beyond words.

His face had gone pale with terror, his teeth clattered audibly, and his limbs shook each time another wolf lunged near him.

He gripped his magical longsword with both hands and swung it wildly to keep the attacking wolves away.

The blade was faintly coated in a dim yellow aura similar in nature to the armored master’s cultivated energy, though it was incomparably weaker in quality, density, and control.

The dim yellow aura made the edge of the blade even sharper than it already was, but his fear and poor execution had ruined whatever skill he possessed.

His footing was unstable, his strikes wasteful, and more than once he stumbled directly into Uncle Caspian, nearly toppling the old man while trying to save himself.

Each collision visibly startled and angered the elder, who was already burdened enough defending both himself and his useless descendant.

Seeing such a miserable scene, much of the suspicion Arlene had carried toward old Caspian began to fade like mist.

Even the armored master’s earlier vigilance eased.

He had sensed something strange before, but looking at the old man now being pressed back, struggling, and burdened by a cowardly grandson, it seemed increasingly likely that his instincts had been mistaken.

In fact, he had already begun considering whether he should move to rescue them before they were overwhelmed.

But none of the four understood the truth hidden beneath the performance of an experienced old man.

Most of the old Caspian’s panic was false.

His weakening defense, his strained breathing, his fearful glances, and even the visible desperation on his aged face were carefully acted parts of a scheme he had been waiting all this while to execute.

He had needed confusion among the group.

He had needed their attention divided, and he had needed the others too occupied to observe him closely, so that he could seamlessly complete his scheme.

And now, amidst blood, snow, and chaos, that long-awaited chance had finally arrived.

In the next instant, the old man’s expression deepened into even greater despair, so convincing that even Arlene’s brows tightened with concern as she glanced in his direction.

At the same time, the wolves around him surged harder, while the ring of icy wind defending him visibly weakened and became unstable, allowing several beasts to break through and snap at his robes with snarling jaws.

Then, as if making a final decision born of desperation, he reached trembling hands into his robes with a pained expression on his face as if he was about to lose something precious and withdrew a tightly rolled blue scroll covered in glowing, deep azure runes of ice.