A Direwolf was sprinting at the forefront.

Its fur was black and sharp as steel, eyes glowing as though there were green flames burning in their sockets, and the wolf looked like a creature that was born from hell. Claws gleamed as paws shuffled and dashed madly across the withered leaves on the ground.

The soldiers’ gazes could not catch up with the wolves’ speed, only to see them darting across the hills and valleys. All their fired arrows did not reach the wolves as they seemingly managed to avoid every one of them.

The officers could only watch the monsters come closer and closer. They ordered the soldiers to lower and ready their spears, but the rows of nobles’ private soldiers under the Kruss Region instead moved back.

A wave seemed to oscillate across their formation.

Lord Kruss and his knights wielded their longswords to fight the wolves, but these Wolves of Calamity were ultimately the nightmares that plagued these citizens and their ancestors who lived in the forest for generations.

The shadows that lurked in the forest was the infamous legendary omen that swallowed everything and signified the end of days—

The knights had pale faces.

“Why are these damn things here!” Lord Kruss cursed aloud.

His men were still keeping in formation, but the highlanders were much more fearful of the legend. Several tribes in the rear secretly retreated, while those in the front fell into confusion. The horrific tales they grew up listening to were going to happen to them, and even their bravest warriors started removing their heavy armor in fright, prepared to run away.

The men could only watch the wolves sprint towards their formation. The archers continued to shoot their projectiles at them without any effect as they came closer and closer, and the distance was less than a hundred paces. Lord Kruss was a Gold-ranker, and his eyesight was keen enough to see that the seemingly soft fur bounced off the arrows.

The lord from the Grey Bears region was a cunning opportunist who could not be relied on, therefore he could not be relied on for assistance.

Lord Kruss could only order his soldiers to advance. He lived in the southern borders long enough to know that humans could not outrun these wolves. Even horses were no different.

The forest air was chilling to the bone, but what was even colder was the chill within their minds, seemingly freezing the soldiers’ ability to breathe. There were only several hundred black wolves, but their speed was so fast that they seemed to move in a blur, giving the illusion that there were infinite numbers. The soldiers’ hands had perspiration and their sword hilts felt slippery.

A figure suddenly dashed out from the trees on horseback.

At first, Lord Kruss thought it was one of his scouts ahead running away from the wolves, but he quickly dispelled the thought. It was a youth who peered at him from afar, but the exchange of stares only made him feel like he was being seen through completely.

“Who are you?” Lord Kruss sensed something was amiss, yelling out to the youth.

“Lord Kruss. Do you still dream of that final moment in the Kantnar battlefield? The glory that you lost there— I’m here to bring it back to you.”

“Silence!” Lord Kruss roared, but his face was drained of color as though a vampire had sucked every drop of blood from him and his hands were trembling: “How.... do.....”

The incident when he abandoned his allies and escaped. He thought no one knew what he did, but the youth in front of him spilled out his deepest secret.

Brendel pursed his lips. In truth, he did not have the intention to mock him as he was simply there to bring back the lost honor he had thrown away.

The wolves behind him gushed out like a tidal wave, charging past Brendel and sprinted towards the soldiers. It was bizarre that the monsters left Brendel and his mount alone, and that outcome made everyone in the vicinity scared.

The black ink smashed into the formation of grey and green colors.

Time seemed to slow down in Lord Kruss’s eyes as he witnessed the lances stabbing into the wolves that were the size of horses. However, the metallic spearheads were also unable to go through the steel-like fur.

Most of these soldiers hired by the nobles were not even close an Iron-ranker. Even if their captains were Iron-rankers, how were they the match for the wolves that had no trouble taking down Silver-rankers? The seemingly impressive defense of an infantry unit comprised of a thousand-odd men was penetrated in an instant and became a pincushion, with cries and screams punctuating the air.

Lord Kruss finally started waking up from the surreal nightmare, hurriedly ordering his knights to fortify the second defense line. The knights were Silver-rankers trained in commanding, and they quickly immediately tried to stabilize the formation with the soldiers.

But the wolves had torn out of a huge chunk out of their formation and their fangs were bared at the Lord Kruss. But the latter did not retreat and simply stared at the impending outcome of the battle.

The knights split up the broken formation and turned it into two wings, eventually discovering that the wolves were much fewer than they thought. After a moment of confusion, the soldiers were directed by the knights to advance and encircle Brendel instead.

[Abandoning your own defense? What a bold decision.]

Brendel was a few hundred meters away from Lord Kruss. At this distance, it was neither near nor far, and if it were a normal battle, then it would be a test for the two commanders’ bravery and wisdom.

[But it’s just like what I expected, using yourself as a bet to get to me. All or nothing to silence me.]

The two hundred black wolves were aided by another hundred-odd Shadow Rock Beasts, but they were facing enemies many times their number. A retreat was impossible, but it was also a contest to see who would take victory first.

Brendel raised Halran Gaia.

The wolves around him parted and sought to make a clear path for him. The youth nudged his mount and it began to accelerate. This was not a mere horse; it was a gift from the Tree Elves. It had the blood from a Spirit of Nature, a primordial horse called Kalenir, a legendary creature like the unicorns. This proud steed was even capable of flight by manipulating the Nature and Wind Elements, stronger and quicker than the other flying horses the Tree Elves were riding on.

Right at that moment, two translucent wings carried the white horse forward and painted a white line across the scenery. Due to his low altitude, the archers did not attempt to shoot at him for fear of shooting into their comrades, but Lord Kruss’s men stood in his path with pale faces. The youth responded by drawing his sword. The blade moved so swiftly that it seemed like seven swords were moving around him, and dozens of spears and humans were knocked away.

Brendel brought his left hand forward and laid it parallel to the ground:

“Howling wind, grant me your authority!” He roared.

It was a spell of the Elementalist’s second Circle, Binding Currents.

An explosive bullet of wind burst out, causing a wall of wind to form and repel the obstacles in from of him. A hurricane was generated behind him, while the soldiers in front of him were slammed so hard that their bodies were forced into a crescent-like shape before they slid off from the invisible wall of wind and hurled away into the air, eventually crushing the men on the ground when they finally dropped from the sky.

The Direwolf that Brendel got from the Dark Forest was enhanced by the system. An armor of protruding rocks was emerging out from its shoulders, forehead, and back. Its strength and defense were increased, possessing a Gold-ranker’s prowess and none of the soldiers were able to approach it. A single snarl from it sent the nearby men falling to the ground with trembling legs.

A single human and wolf cut out an empty path reaching fifty meters ahead of them, and their tail was free of people, allowing the wolves to follow behind them. Two personal knights serving under Lord Kruss dashed out from the sides to intercept Brendel, but the youth placed his sword horizontally before swinging it at an unthinkable speed. A flash of light flickered once, and the knights along with their mounts were cleaved in half, tossing their bodies high up into the air.

He slew two Silver-rankers in an instant.

The restless soldiers who thought they could try to overwhelm the youth with numbers were now terrified, halting their movements with an unintentional synchronized timing. Average mortals like them were not qualified to participate in a battle with a Gold-ranker.

Brendel once again urged his horse forward, and his enemies scrambled to get out of his way. It was as though he was a fish parting the waters. Lord Kruss’s expression changed when he realized what he was seeing.

[Such a young Gold-ranked swordsman in Aouine?! This is obviously a brilliant genius. You can even count the people who can rival him on one hand at his age. Furthermore, his sword is gleaming with Element Power—]

Lord Kruss felt the hope in his heart turn to ice as he muttered under his breath:

“What exactly is going on here, these rebels are....”

Brendel raised an eyebrow when he saw Lord Kruss stay at where he was. His mind worked quickly and understood. He watched his surroundings intensely, and he quickly sensed two Gold-rankers releasing their energy.

[It’s just like I thought initially, Lord Kruss wouldn’t let his defense go down without reason. Are there more Gold-rankers?]

Brendel did not have any sense of urgency when he saw the two unfamiliar faces rushing at him. They were swordsmen who did not even have signs of an Unsealed Element Power, therefore they were low-grade Gold-rankers.

[They are either hired or secretly trained. Either way, it certainly shows how rich the high nobles are.]

The youth raised his sword and swung it at the first charging swordsman, not even bothering to slow down his mount, and instead he timed it so that his blade would meet the opponent’s. It was a swing that had no hesitation, resembling a comet that simply sped forward regardless of the obstacles.

The swordsman from under Count Randner nearly jumped out his armor. He had never seen such an insane rider, completely disregarding his own defense when it was a two versus one scenario.

It was truly an attacked that screamed ‘I shall cut you even if I forfeit my life’.

There was no technique to speak off, but at the same time, it drove Count Randner’s swordsmen crazy with terror. The first swordsman was unwilling to die together with the youth, but the speed at which the horse was charging in was simply too fast and avoiding it was not an option.

He could only swing up his sword to defend himself. It was extremely frustrating in his mind because he was the one who had the initiative, but was overwhelmed by his crazy opponent. The only hope he had was to rely on his partner to exploit the fact that Brendel had no means to guard himself. Since the two of them worked together for many years, it was unlikely that the latter would miss it.

But the outcome that happened was out of his expectations. He saw Brendel strike at his blade and the immense feedback nearly broke his wrist, forcing him to retreat as he shuffled against the ground awkwardly to regain his balance. He cursed inwardly but when he finally got a chance to peek at Brendel, he found the latter already ready with a new meteoric slash.

The swordsman felt his soul leaving his body—