On the open plain.
The wolves circled the caravan in a slow, creeping orbit. Their eerie green eyes gleamed with both hunger and excitement.
Inside the ring of wooden wagons, a man, tall and broad-shouldered with a battered captain's cuirass strapped over his chest, raised his sword and barked loud enough for all of them to hear.
"Hold your ground! Don't panic!" he said. "Stay in position!"
His voice steadied the men a little. Captain Brandon then turned toward the second wagon, the one with reinforced shutters and clean white drapes. His expression softened.
"Lady Celize," he called, "stay inside the wagon. We'll handle this. I'll bring you to Que'tol town as promised."
The window curtain shifted slightly, and a woman's gentle voice floated out, tremoring just enough to betray her nerves.
"…I'll trust you, Captain."
Brandon nodded once, tightening his grip on his sword as he stepped back into the defensive line.
The wolves' pacing slowed.
Their muscles bunched.
Bodies lowered.
Their snarls synced, rising, as if some silent signal echoed between them.
Soo, they attacked.
Claws slammed into the front shields, the thud echoing through the caravan like a hammer hitting an anvil. The men grunted, boots sliding back and dragging dirt. The formation held—barely.
"Sallie! Enhancement! Now!" Brandon ordered without taking his eyes off the beasts.
A woman stepped forward—a robed figure in deep green, with a long wooden staff clutched in both hands. Her chest rose quickly, but she steadied herself and nodded.
"Alright, Captain Brandon. I'm on it."
She planted her staff into the ground; runes carved near its tip flared with soft gold. Wind spiraled around her arms and shot outward in a shimmering pulse.
In an instant, the soldiers' bodies glowed faintly, their breathing deepened, and their stances steadied. Power hummed beneath their skin.
"It's up!" Sallie shouted.
"Then push!" Brandon roared.
The wolves lunged again. This time, the shield wall absorbed the impact with less staggering. Spears thrust forward, stabbing into thick fur and muscle. Yelps filled the air—in pain, in fury, in bloodlust.
For a moment, the caravan seemed like it might withstand the assault.
But pressure makes mistakes inevitable.
One guard, too eager to finish off a wounded wolf, extended his spear too far past the shield line. The wolf beside it snapped sideways, jaws clamping down on his exposed arm with a sickening crunch.
"…Aahhh! My arm! My aarm..!"
He screamed, dropping to his knees.
"Marcus!" Brandon grabbed the back of the soldier's collar and yanked him behind the line, boots scraping against dirt. "Sallie, heal him!"
"I'm trying!" Sallie knelt beside him, hands already glowing with emerald light. Sweat dripped down her temple as she forced her mana to mend skin, bone, blood vessels—anything she could.
But a problem lingered: she was slow, and there were too many wounded already.
The wolves sensed it.
Every hit grew stronger. Every lunge deeper. Their formation buckled more with each passing second.
"Brace—brace!" Brandon shouted.
But the wolves didn't give them the chance. Three leapt at the shield wall simultaneously. Shields clanged. Men strained and slipped. The line bent…
…and broke.
Chaos spilled into the caravan.
Wolves darted between wagons, ripping into exposed legs and arms. Several guards fell before they could even scream. Another was dragged away, boots scraping blood into the dirt. Horses panicked, breaking free and bolting into the open fields.
The entire formation collapsed like a shattered pot.
Sallie stood frozen for a heartbeat, horror widening her eyes.
"Captain!" she cried.
"I know!" Brandon responded, swinging his blade hard enough to cleave a wolf's jaw. "Fall back! Protect the wagons!"
But the wolves were faster. They lunged at isolated soldiers, knocking them down, tearing through leather armor like cloth. Blood sprayed across wagon wheels and splattered against the dry ground.
Lady Celize, unable to suppress her worry, pushed open the small window of her wagon. Her soft brown eyes widened the moment she saw the battlefield.
"No…"
She covered her mouth with both hands as she watched men she recognized. The men who had guarded her journey for days. Starting to fall one after another.
Brandon fought like a man possessed, shouting hoarse commands, parrying and countering and kicking wolves away, but even he was losing ground.
A young guard, barely twenty, tripped beside the wagon. A wolf pounced on him immediately, its teeth sinking into his collarbone. Celize cried out, instinctively reaching her hand through the window.
And that movement changed everything.
One of the wolves lifted its head. Its gaze locked on hers—hunger shimmering in its eyes.
Then it charged straight for her wagon.
"Celize! Close the window!" Brandon shouted, but he was too far to intercept.
The lady froze. Panic rooted her in place as the wolf sprinted, claws tearing the ground, jaws opening wide.
She shut her eyes.
Three meters.
Two.
One.
A small silver glint cut through the air.
Thunk.
The wolf's body jerked sideways as a dagger buried itself deep into the side of its skull. The beast collapsed mid-charge, rolling lifelessly at Celize's wagon.
She gasped, staring at it—then looked up.
A man now stood where the wolf had fallen.
Not a guard.
Not someone from the caravan.
A stranger.
The man was tall, lean with defined muscle, his skin streaked with dust and blood. His only clothing was a pair of worn pants; his chest was bare, marked newly obtained wounds and sweat.
Kevin stood relaxed, almost casual, as if stepping into a wolf attack was nothing more than walking into a tavern. His dark hair was tousled by the wind, falling over his forehead, and despite the grim chaos around them…
…he smiled.
Not mockingly.
Not arrogantly.
Just a simple, calm smile—like a reassurance.
His eyes lifted to Lady Celize's terrified ones.
"Are you alright?" he asked gently.
But in Kevin's mind, another thought appeared.
Whoa...she's gorgeous. An actual angel. I'll be smiling for a whole day if I get even one night in her company.
Celize blinked, stunned. She didn't answer at first. She couldn't—the words tangled in her throat. She'd never seen someone move with such effortless confidence in the middle of bloodshed.
Kevin didn't even glance back. He knew Black Rabbit was hiding in his shadow, ready to protect him.
He thought, keep hidden, little buddy, let your boss take your glory.
The truth to be told, before Kevin's dagger hit the wolf's skull, Black Rabbit's fang had already penetrated its throat.
He stepped closer to the wagon, never lowering that composed smile.
"You're safe now," he said softly.
The battlefield seemed to pause around him—just for a heartbeat.
And to Lady Celize, that heartbeat felt like the first breath she'd taken in minutes.