The carriage hurtled toward the gates, its wheels kicking up plumes of snow as the monstrous horde closed in behind it.
On the walls, guards scrambled into position—archers nocking arrows, channelers summoning flickering energy between their palms. The captain, a broad-shouldered woman with a scar running down her cheek, barked orders as she climbed the watchtower steps.
The younger guard—no, the impostor—watched it all with detached calm.
This wasn't supposed to happen yet.
His fingers twitched at his side. The attack was early and uncoordinated. The beasts should have waited for his order, not charged ahead like mindless animals.
His gaze flicked across the defenders.
The town's guards were disciplined, but they lacked real power. A few channelers, a handful of resonators. Enough to hold off the lesser monsters, but that ice-clad bear leading the charge—Frostfang—would tear through them without issue.
The chaos was already here—the perfect cover. If he acted now, nobody would tie the incident to him but would accept it as a natural monster attack.
But something felt… off.
Before he could decide, the gates, still not fully closed, shuddered as another carriage burst out of the city, its horses lathered in sweat, charging toward the oncoming horde.
Two carriages passed each other in a blur of snow and shadow.
The driver of the first—the coated figure—moved. In one fluid motion, they tossed the reins to the panicked black haired boy beside them and launched themselves across the gap, landing neatly in the second carriage.
The boy barely had time to gape before his own horses carried him onward, toward the safety of the walls.
Behind him, the second carriage halted after reaching a hundred or so meters from the monsters.
Four cloaked figures erupted from its interior, shooting into the sky like arrows loosed from a bow.
What shocked everyone at the scene was - they went straight toward the Frostfang.
They moved as one, their bo staffs flashing through the air like silver streaks. The smaller monsters lunged—only to be sent flying with mere taps of the polished wood, their bodies crumpling mid-charge as if struck by invisible force.
Frostfang immediately noticed them.
The massive bear reared onto its hind legs and roared, a sound that shook the very ground. Then—slam. Its front paws crashed down, and the earth answered.
Ice spikes erupted from the snow in a deadly wave, shooting toward the four attackers.
But they were already moving.
One flipped backward, staff whirling to deflect the closest spike. Another twisted sideways, the ice grazing their cloak as they landed lightly on a jagged pillar. The third and fourth simply leaped—soaring over the frozen barrage like leaves caught in a gust.
Frostfang's crimson eyes locked onto the one in midair. Its claws glowed blue, and with a swipe, three crescent blades of ice aura sliced through the sky.
The figure twisted, staff meeting the attack head-on. The impact sent them skidding back—but they landed neatly atop one of Frostfang's own ice spikes, balanced like a dancer on a wire.
The other three struck instantly, blurring into motion as they surrounded the beast.
Frostfang snarled, its chilling aura exploding outward in a visible wave. The air itself seemed to freeze, the snow hardening into razor-sharp shards.
A lesser fighter would have faltered. Would have feared.
They charged confidently.
Staffs struck from all sides—one aimed for Frostfang's ribs, another at its knees, the third at its skull. The fourth, still perched high, dropped like a falling star, staff pointed downward like a spear.
Frostfang roared again—but this time, there was something new in its bellow.
The jagged ice crystals on its back blazed to life, glowing with an eerie deep blue light. The air around its massive body shimmered, then crystallized—forming thousands of needle-like ice shards that hovered menacingly in the air.
For a heartbeat, time seemed to freeze.
The needles shot outward in a deadly barrage, aimed at the four figures from all directions.
But they didn't flinch.
The first figure spun their staff in a wide, effortless arc, the polished wood becoming a blur. Ice needles shattered against it like glass, scattering harmlessly into the snow.
The second flicked their wrist—their staff swished through the air like a sword, cleaving through the frozen projectiles with precision. Each movement was crisp, calculated.
Their staff split into two, transforming into a pair of nunchaku. With a nimble leap, they bounded between Frostfang's own ice spikes, using them as stepping stones. The nunchaku whirled, deflecting stray needles as they closed in.
The needles struck their cloak, their body—but they were already above Frostfang, descending like a comet.
Frostfang's crimson eyes burned with fury. Its maw gaped open, and a torrent of frostbreath erupted—a blinding, freezing blast aimed point-blank at the descending figure.
The fourth twisted mid-air, their cloak whipping around them like a shadow caught in a storm. At the last possible moment, they pivoted, their body tilting just enough that the frostbreath grazed past, flash-freezing the edge of their sleeve into brittle ice.
Their staff came down in a devastating arc, striking Frostfang's skull with a CRACK that echoed across the battlefield.
Frostfang's massive body staggered. Its eyes rolled, limbs trembling as its balance failed. For the first time, the monstrous bear looked lost. It felt like...
...the world was spinning beneath it.
The other three didn't waste a second.
Like shadows, they struck.
One staff smashed into Frostfang's ribs. Another swept its legs. The third—the nunchaku wielder—lashed out in a brutal flurry, striking pressure points along its spine.
Frostfang collapsed onto its side, the ground trembling beneath its weight. Its once-terrifying roar was reduced to a weak, disoriented growl.
In mere moments, the mighty alpha of the horde had been reduced to a mere punching bag.
A hush fell over the remaining monsters.
The lesser beasts—the snow wolves, the ice imps, the razor-clawed lynxes—all froze mid-step, their beady eyes locked on Frostfang's fallen form. Their alpha, their unstoppable leader, lay twitching in the snow, utterly defeated.
With panicked yelps and screeches, the creatures turned tail and fled, scrambling over each other in their desperation to escape. They moved faster now than they had during their charge, their primal fear overriding all else.
The forest swallowed them whole, leaving only trampled snow and the occasional discarded claw mark in their wake.