Glacial Stalkers hunted in merciless packs, shadows in Aethelgard’s perpetual twilight. Dominating their kin was an Alpha, always female, a creature of formidable scale. Her bulk dwarfed the males, a shaggy mane of rime-crusted fur encircling her neck like a frozen crown.
Over two meters at the shoulder, five from snout to tail, each Stalker was a hulking mass of muscle and ice. Their numbers could swell from tens to a hundred, a terrifying tide birthed by the Alpha's prolific dominion. A matriarchy of frost and tooth, all subservient to her chilling command.
They owned the long, frigid nights, their pale hides blending seamlessly with the endless snow, eyes glinting with predatory hunger. Adapted to the biting cold, their assaults were sudden, overwhelming.
Forward, the Glacial Stalkers surged, a charging wave of death. Their pack mentality erased fear, nullified caution. Such a large-scale assault could sweep away even powerful Awakened in a heartbeat.
While most hurled themselves at Vorlag, some peeled off, arcing towards Kaelen.
Kaelen unleashed his power, a focused torrent of freezing air. A Frost Shard shot forth, punching through the lead Stalker’s head. Its body crumpled, a heavy thud against the ice, but the others paid it no mind, driven by primal instinct.
Repeatedly, Kaelen fired. His Frost Shard attacks were potent, each one felling a beast. Yet, the sheer multitude of Stalkers made this approach futile. He couldn't outpace their numbers, not with individual strikes.
Thoughts raced, frantic, even as his core chilled. ‘One by one, this won’t work. I need to strike at least five, maybe more, with each effort. That’s the only way to even the odds.’
Mana. That was the crushing truth. He needed to manage it, stretch it, make every surge count. Hesitation was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
Then, from his outstretched hand, five needle-thin icicles burst forth, streaking towards the closest Stalkers. Piercing shrieks tore the air as five massive bodies convulsed, then collapsed. Each bore only a coin-sized hole, drilled cleanly through their skulls.
One Frost Shard, now divided into five. To conserve mana, he’d compressed the divided energy, focusing it into slender, potent projectiles. Instead of explosive force, it was pure, focused penetration.
First, it was difficult. The next, easier. Once a path was forged, the footing felt surer.
Whish! Whish! Whish!
Successive volleys of Frost Spikes launched. Five slender ice spears found five new targets, piercing skulls, dropping Stalkers in quick succession. He could endure, for now.
Finally, Kaelen allowed himself a quick glance towards Vorlag.
Eyes widened, freezing mid-blink.
“Kekeke! More, more…”
Vorlag wielded Rimefang, a maniacal laugh echoing across the frozen plain. Around him, a grim tally mounted: over a hundred dead Glacial Stalkers. He used no complex arts, no intricate skills. Only raw power. He merely swung Rimefang, then swung again.
Each arc of the immense, frost-sheened blade cut down several Stalkers. Blood sprayed, scarlet against white, chunks of flesh flew. The already stained snow grew darker, a gruesome tableau.
Occasionally, a Stalker lunged, teeth snapping at Vorlag’s arms or calves. But their fangs found no purchase, simply shattered against his unyielding flesh. He was harder than the glacier itself.
“Kekeke! That tickles.”
Vorlag seized the head of a Stalker gnawing his thigh, crushing it with a bare hand. The creature’s sturdy skull crumbled like brittle ice. He hurled the limp body into the charging pack.
The airborne carcass collided with others, sending them tumbling, legs bending unnaturally, bellies torn open, steaming entrails spilling onto the snow. Vorlag was an engine of brutal, ruthless slaughter.
None dared to meet his gaze, none held their ground. Watching from a distance, the Alpha Stalker, who had merely observed, finally stepped forward. A frigid aura, blue-white and crackling, enveloped her.
This meant she was no mere beast, but an awakened creature, wielding the subtle arts of rime magic. Sparks of pure frost energy erupted from the massive ice-shards jutting from her head.
Then, a bolt of pure, concentrated rime shot from her horns. It cleaved the frigid air, appearing before Vorlag in an instant. Vorlag, as if swatting a bothersome insect, casually waved a hand, plucking the frost bolt from the air.
The rime energy that had glowed in the perpetual twilight simply vanished within his palm. Only then, an intense, visceral sense of danger pulsed from the Alpha. This foe was unlike any prey, any predator, they had ever known.
Alpha Stalker roared, a piercing command to retreat. To struggle against such overwhelming power was folly. Half her pack lay dead. The survival of the group hinged on preserving the rest.
Her judgment was sharp. But Vorlag had no intention of letting his game end so soon.
He hurled Rimefang. Spinning at fearsome speed, the massive blade cut through everything in its path, a whirlwind of death. Mournful cries of the fleeing Glacial Stalkers echoed across the frozen wastes.
Kaelen felt a cold dread seize him, watching the carnage. Yet, Vorlag wasn’t finished. He stomped the ice hard, launching himself into the air.
Rimefang, having completed its bloody circuit, flew back to Vorlag’s waiting hand. Catching the weapon, Vorlag plummeted, a meteor of destruction, straight towards the Alpha Stalker.
Impact. A tremendous shockwave erupted, sending ice and snow churning in all directions. The Alpha’s desperate scream was swallowed by the roar of displaced air and fracturing ice. When the snow settled, the aftermath was revealed.
The Alpha Stalker lay utterly defeated, mangled beyond recognition. Only the great ice-shards on her head remained intact. Vorlag stood over the corpse, breathing steadily.
After such an intense battle, no hint of fatigue touched his face. Instead, he seemed invigorated, a faint, satisfied smile playing on his lips. He looked utterly refreshed. Kaelen could barely allow himself a shallow breath.
Vorlag’s power was simply overwhelming. ‘Is he truly human? He used no special abilities, no complex skills.’ Awakened individuals gain unique skills, often their strongest assets in combat. Facing such a formidable creature, employing skills would have been logical, effective.
Vorlag defied that common sense. He had crushed the Alpha leader with pure, unadulterated strength, without resorting to any named ability. Such raw power, from a human, seemed impossible. No Awakened in the remnants of Aethelgard could command such might.
Just then, Vorlag turned his head, his gaze settling on Kaelen.
“Kekeke! You managed to survive.”
Kaelen merely nodded, unable to find his voice. Vorlag laughed, a dry, rasping sound, then knelt. He carefully collected one of the massive ice-shards from the Alpha’s head.
“The shards from Glacial Stalkers are quite useful. They carry the essence of deep frost. Refine it well, and it could become an excellent weapon.” He studied the shard for a moment, then stretched out a hand. The shard vanished from his grasp, as if it had never been there.
‘A spatial ability? He isn’t of the Martial Arts category, but the Arcane?’ Until now, Vorlag had demonstrated a brutal, purely physical fighting style. Yet, he had just used a spatial ability, a rare gift among the Arcane Awakened. Kaelen’s understanding shattered.
He was puzzled. Did Vorlag, who already possessed Rimefang, need another weapon? Kaelen didn’t dare ask. Vorlag sheathed Rimefang, then produced a small, utilitarian blade.
He tossed the dagger to Kaelen. “From now on, find your own food.”
“Most of a Glacial Stalker’s flesh is toxic, save for the meat along their flanks. That portion is safe to dry and consume.” Vorlag deftly carved a section from a fallen Stalker’s side. It wasn’t a large amount, barely the size of an adult’s palm.
Kaelen had been watching closely. He mimicked Vorlag, carefully excising the same portion of meat. Vorlag wouldn’t elaborate. Kaelen realized then: the jerky he’d been given was monster meat.
‘He hunts these creatures for food.’ A simple truth, stark and brutal. Kaelen felt no particular objection. He’d grown up in a dying world, where food was a precious, often dangerous, commodity. If it sustained him, he would consume it without hesitation.
Cautiously, Kaelen copied Vorlag. Vorlag cut only enough meat for a few days, knowing he could always hunt more. Kaelen, not possessing Vorlag’s boundless strength, had to be more thorough. Securing as much as possible seemed prudent.
He managed to harvest nearly thirty pieces of meat. He wished for more, but without a means of storage, he had to stop. He wrapped the meat in his outerwear, forming a bundle, and slung it over his shoulder.
“Keke! Resourceful enough.” Vorlag’s dry comment. After two days pushed to his limit, it was an accomplishment. But he was far from finished. To be truly useful, he knew, he’d need to toil much, much longer. And harshly.
“If you’ve gathered everything, let’s move. Before others catch the scent of blood…” It wasn’t fear in Vorlag’s tone, only a desire to avoid inconvenience.
Nodding, Kaelen followed. He, too, desired to leave this blood-soaked ground. The dim sun had already begun its slow crawl across the sky. Under its cold light, the carnage was even more gruesome. Scavengers, dark shapes against the pale sky, already circled.
More would gather. That was the law of Aethelgard: the strong preyed upon the weak, the dead became food. No being escaped this cycle. Following Vorlag, Kaelen was gradually grasping these brutal truths of his world.
As usual, Vorlag paid Kaelen no heed, striding ahead. Kaelen pushed himself, using Ice Stride, a low hum of power in his core. After the intense mana expenditure of the night’s battle, he expected it to be a challenge.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t. More mana remained than anticipated, and its control felt smoother, more intuitive than before. ‘It must be the battle last night.’ The edge of life-and-death combat, pushing his power to its absolute limit, had forged him anew.
‘I’ve grown stronger. And I will continue to grow.’ Kaelen gazed at Vorlag’s retreating back. He still didn’t understand why Vorlag kept him around. But one thing was terrifyingly clear: simply following him, simply surviving, would undoubtedly make Kaelen stronger.
Kaelen diligently trailed after him, step by agonizing step.