The extermination squad moved through the forest with practiced precision. The scouts led the way while Gareth and the veteran knights maintained the formation’s center, snow crunching softly beneath boots and hooves as the group followed the trail left by the Frost Wolf pack. No one spoke loudly. The closer they drew to their target, the quieter the forest seemed to become.

Eventually, one of the scouts emerged from ahead and signaled toward Gareth. The veteran knight immediately raised a hand, and the formation halted.

"We found them."

Excitement appeared across several apprentice faces. Gareth noticed. His expression remained unchanged. "Remember your training." The words were calm, firm, uncompromising. "This is not a spar. These wolves will not stop because you made a mistake."

The apprentices straightened, and even Ethan could feel the tension spreading through the group.

Gareth continued issuing orders — Roland would command the right flank, Owen would support the center, and the apprentices would engage under supervision while the veteran knights remained ready to intervene if necessary. Everything was arranged carefully. This was still a training opportunity, not a suicide mission.

Several minutes later, the squad arrived at the edge of a frozen clearing.

The Frost Wolves were there. Eight of them. Massive gray-white bodies moved between the snow-covered trees, their thick fur blending naturally with the surrounding landscape while yellow eyes watched the approaching humans with obvious hostility. Near the center stood the largest wolf — the Alpha — whose size alone exceeded that of an ordinary horse.

A low growl echoed through the clearing.

The tension snapped instantly.

"Formation!"

Steel left scabbards. Shields rose. The apprentices moved forward. Then the wolves attacked — fast, far faster than training partners. The Alpha remained behind while the rest of the pack surged forward like a wave of fur and fangs. Their speed almost resembling a speeding car.

One apprentice reacted a fraction too slowly. A wolf crossed the distance between them almost instantly, and the boy barely managed to raise his shield before the impact threw him backward into the snow. Several others hesitated, and that single moment was enough — the wolves immediately pressed their advantage.

"Hold the line!"

Roland’s command cut through the chaos. Owen moved like a storm through the center formation, intercepting a wolf that had nearly reached another apprentice. His sword flashed once. Blood sprayed across the snow. The beast collapsed instantly.

Meanwhile, the younger members struggled to adapt. Training had prepared them for combat. Reality was different. Reality was fast, terrifying and it was intent on killing them.

Ethan watched the battlefield calmly, his grip tightening around the hilt of the Eternal Sovereign Blade. The familiar sensation spread through his arm immediately — cold, stable, reliable. This was not a training session within Ravenhold’s walls. This was real combat, the first true battle he and the blade had entered together. As Aura flowed through his body, a faint resonance traveled through the hilt and into his arm, subtle and almost imperceptible, yet carrying an inexplicable sense of familiarity. The sword seemed to settle into his grip as though it had always belonged there, perfectly aligned with his movements and intentions.

A Frost Wolf lunged toward him, jaws open wide, fangs gleaming beneath the pale winter light.

Ethan stepped forward instead of retreating. Aura flowed through his body. The principles engraved into every Ravencrest warrior guided his movement.

The blade descended. First Form — Mountain Cleaving Strike. A sharp arc of steel cut through the air, and the wolf’s momentum shattered instantly. Ethan use this to his advantage and launched another strike. It’s body crashed into the snow several meters away, blood staining the white ground before it went still.

Several nearby apprentices froze. Not because of the kill, but because of how clean it had been — no wasted movement, no panic, no hesitation.

As the Frost Wolf’s body crashed into the snow, Ethan felt a faint pulse travel through the blade. The sensation was gone almost immediately, so subtle that anyone else would have missed it entirely. Yet through the soul-bound connection linking them, he recognized it clearly — the Eternal Sovereign Blade had reacted to the blood it had drawn. Not dramatically, not in any way that revealed its nature, but enough to confirm it was already beginning to work. He pushed the thought aside and shifted his attention back toward the battlefield. This was neither the time nor the place for distractions.

Another wolf immediately rushed toward him. Ethan shifted his footing — the motion simple and efficient — and the Eternal Sovereign Blade flashed once more. The wolf shifted mid-swing, Ethan used the momentum to pierce side of the wolf as blood splattered across the snow. The second wolf immediately collapsed.

For a brief moment, the battlefield seemed to slow.

Roland’s eyes narrowed slightly. Even among older apprentices, such efficiency was uncommon. And Ethan was only ten.

Far across the battlefield, Gareth’s gaze briefly shifted toward him. His expression remained calm, yet his eyes lingered slightly longer than before. Most children his age fought with aggression or fear. Some froze. Others became reckless. Ethan displayed none of those traits — he remained calm from beginning to end, his movements efficient, his decisions immediate. More importantly, he never once lost awareness of the battlefield around him. The wolf he had killed first had not been the closest target. It had been the most dangerous one. That distinction mattered, and very few warriors learned to recognize such things early.

He fought like someone who had done this countless times.

A third wolf broke through the formation and charged directly toward an injured apprentice struggling to stand. The boy’s face turned pale — he knew he wouldn’t react in time. The wolf closed the distance.

Then a black blade appeared between them.

The Frost Wolf’s body slid across the snow before coming to a stop several meters away. Silence followed. The injured apprentice stared.

Ethan simply lowered his sword. "Get up."

The boy blinked. Then quickly scrambled to his feet, looking as though he wanted to say something, though nothing came out. His face remained pale as he stared at the wolf that had been about to kill him.

Several nearby apprentices had witnessed the exchange. Their gazes repeatedly drifted toward Ethan afterward — not with curiosity this time, but with something closer to respect. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

The battle continued for several more minutes. With the veteran knights maintaining control and the apprentices gradually adapting, the wolves began losing ground. One by one, members of the pack fell. The Alpha watched everything from the rear, and its instincts quickly recognized the situation — this prey was far more dangerous than expected. A deep growl escaped its throat. Then it turned, and the remaining wolves immediately followed. Within seconds, the survivors disappeared into the forest.

-----

The clearing fell silent. Heavy breathing filled the cold air. Blood stained the snow. Several injured apprentices sat where they had fallen. Others remained standing, still gripping their weapons tightly.

The battle had lasted only a few minutes. Yet for many of them, it felt much longer — because for the first time, they had experienced what a real battlefield felt like, and reality had proven far harsher than training.

For several moments, no one moved. The frozen clearing remained eerily silent as the reality of the battle gradually settled over the group. Then Gareth’s voice shattered the stillness.

"Report injuries."

The command immediately brought everyone back to reality. The veterans moved efficiently through the clearing while soldiers retrieved medical supplies from nearby packs. What had seemed like chaos moments earlier quickly transformed into disciplined order — because a battle did not truly end when the fighting stopped. The aftermath mattered just as much.

Ethan sheathed the Eternal Sovereign Blade and quietly surveyed the battlefield. Six Frost Wolves lay scattered across the clearing, blood staining the pristine snow crimson. The Alpha and two survivors had escaped — a reasonable outcome. For a training experience involving apprentices, Gareth had likely allowed the retreat intentionally. Chasing wounded predators deeper into unfamiliar territory offered little benefit and unnecessary risk.

Nearby, several injured apprentices sat receiving treatment. Fortunately, none of the wounds were serious — cuts, bruises, a few puncture wounds. They might be painful lessons, but valuable ones which they will carry for the rest of their lives.

Roland walked among them with folded arms, his expression neither angry nor sympathetic, simply firm.

"You hesitated." He stopped in front of one apprentice. "The moment you stopped moving, the wolf took the initiative." The young boy lowered his head. Roland continued walking. "You lost sight of your surroundings." Another apprentice winced. "The battlefield doesn’t care how talented you are." He stopped again. "If Owen hadn’t intervened, you’d be dead."

No one argued. Because everyone knew he was right. The confidence many had carried into the battle had disappeared, and in its place remained something far more useful — respect. Respect for the wilderness. Respect for monsters. Respect for combat itself.

A short distance away, Owen finished bandaging a shallow wound on an apprentice’s arm. "Don’t look so miserable." The veteran knight chuckled. "Nobody died." A few nervous laughs appeared. "Besides," Owen continued, "if your first battle doesn’t scare you a little, you’re probably doing something wrong." That earned several genuine smiles.

Even Roland’s expression softened. Only slightly.

Meanwhile, Gareth remained near the center of the clearing, his gaze moving across the battlefield — the dead wolves, the apprentices, the formation, the injuries. He evaluated everything. Nothing escaped his notice. Eventually, his attention settled on Ethan.

The young boy stood calmly near the edge of the clearing, his expression no different from before the battle. No excitement. No fear. No pride. Simply calm observation. The contrast was difficult to ignore — most apprentices experienced an emotional high after their first successful battle, others struggled with fear, some became overconfident. Ethan displayed none of those reactions. If anything, he appeared more interested in analyzing the encounter than celebrating it.

Interesting.

It seems the brat is not only proficient in mastering techniques, he also has the same efficiency in killing monsters.

Ethan, meanwhile, ignored the attention. His focus remained elsewhere.

The corpses of the Frost Wolves rested silently upon the snow, and deep within the Eternal Sovereign Blade, something stirred — a faint pulse, barely noticeable, almost imperceptible, yet Ethan felt it clearly. The sensation traveled through the sword and into his hand before disappearing as quickly as it had come. The same phenomenon had occurred after the previous kills, subtle and hidden but real, and he recognized what it meant. The Blood Refinement had already begun its work, drawing whatever the Frost Wolves carried in their blood and beginning to refine it into something the blade — or he himself — might eventually use.

He had no way to know yet what Frost Wolf blood essence would yield. Physical durability. Something else entirely. The answers would come later, once the refinement was complete. For now, the fact that the process had begun at all was enough.

-----

As the final preparations concluded, Gareth gave the order to move. The dead wolves were quickly processed according to standard expedition procedures — valuable materials collected, the rest left for scavengers and the natural cycle of the frontier. Before long, the clearing returned to silence. Only bloodstained snow remained as evidence of the battle.

As the formation reorganized, Ethan gradually became aware of something he had half-expected. People were looking at him — not Gareth, not Roland, but him. The apprentices who had spent the previous day whispering rumors now seemed strangely quiet, their sidelong glances carrying something different from the curiosity of the day before.

Word traveled quickly on the frontier. Especially after a battle.

The extermination squad resumed its march northward. The apprentices walked differently now — movements more cautious, eyes more alert, the forest seeming larger and darker and less welcoming than it had that morning. Reality had stripped away many of their illusions, and that was precisely why Gareth had allowed them to fight. Experience could not be taught. It had to be earned with sweat and blood.

The afternoon passed quietly as the formation advanced deeper into the Ancient Wildlands. Towering pines surrounded them on all sides while distant mountains rose against the horizon. Snow continued falling intermittently, covering old tracks and softening the landscape beneath a blanket of white.

As evening approached, Ethan found himself glancing toward the northern horizon. A strange feeling lingered within his chest — not danger, not instinct. Something distant, as though something beyond the forest had briefly turned its attention in his direction before looking away again. Something he could not quite identify.

The sensation vanished before he could grasp it.

Ethan frowned slightly. Then he dismissed the thought.

For now, there were more immediate concerns. The expedition had only just begun, and somewhere within the endless wilderness ahead, the first threads of a much greater mystery had already begun to move.