Chapter 36.3: Grimfang Invasion (3)
Year 0002, XII Month: The Imperium
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Counter-Ambush
August's sub-stealth stats activated, cloaking him in shadow practically blinding him with the trees as he approached the unsuspecting Grimfang from behind. His footfalls made no sound on the snow-covered ground, his breathing steady despite the frigid cold air burning his lungs.
A single slash—precise and deadly—and the creature was decapitated in an instant. Its head rolled across the snow, crimson blood staining the pristine white landscape. The Grimfang had no chance to fight back against August's lethal strike, its senses failing to detect the predator that had become its executioner.
August didn't linger. Without pausing to admire his handiwork, he immediately rushed toward the other end of the wall, nine more to go. The veteran Grimfang still hadn't realized that its kin had already been slain—that the hunters had become the hunted, now flanked and cornered by their intended prey.
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Grimfang Frontal Assault
At the village gates, the Grimfangs' main force had begun their assault. Their massive forms crashed against the defenses like a tide of fur, claws, and fangs, yet the line held.
Jonathan stood there like an immovable fortress, absorbing blow after devastating blow. The enchanted shield August had given him before they executed their plan gleamed in the winter light. Where August had acquired such a magnificent piece of equipment, Jonathan couldn't say, but it was exponentially superior to his previous shield.
He used it now to defend and hold the line, silently thanking August for the foresight. Attacks that would have shattered his old shield merely reverberated through this one with a dull thud. Its craftsmanship was evident in its durability; Jonathan had been standing on the front lines for a good five minutes without faltering, despite the relentless onslaught of claws and maws.
Blood spattered across the snow at his feet—most of it not his own. His arms ached from the constant impact, but his resolve never wavered. Every moment he held the gate was another moment his comrades could press their advantage elsewhere.
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Tactical Maneuvers From Both Sides
On the backlines of the main assault force, a battle-scarred wolf surveyed the battlefield with calculating eyes. The veteran Grimfang's fur was matted with old scars, testaments to battles won and lost across decades of conflict. It stayed behind the main force, analyzing the tactical situation with an intelligence that belied its bestial appearance.
The humans were holding better than anticipated. Not only were they maintaining their defense, but they had even managed to injure several Grimfangs assaulting the gate. The veteran watched, its amber eyes narrowing as it realized their frontal attack couldn't break through the solid defense.
It barked sharp commands in a language of growls and howls—orders for its pack to split and flank their enemies. The strategy was sound, but there was one critical problem: Erik and Red occupied a vantage point that gave them a complete view of the battlefield. From their elevated position, they were systematically denying the Grimfangs' advance along the wall while punishing the exposed flanks of the assault force with precisely aimed arrows.
Each shaft found its mark with deadly accuracy, piercing thick hide and vital organs. The Grimfangs' attempted flanking maneuvers collapsed before they could fully form, the Grimfangs were now riddled with arrows protruding from the different parts of their bodies.
The veteran Grimfang observed the unfolding scenario with growing frustration. By all accounts, they should be winning. They possessed superior numbers, strength, and savage ferocity—yet somehow they were losing ground to these fragile humans.
The one guarding the gate proved particularly troublesome, standing firm despite the concentrated attacks against his pack. The veteran hadn't yet committed itself to the fight, remaining warily in the backline. Something felt wrong—the powerful presence it had sensed earlier had vanished, and doubt began to gnaw at its confidence.
*What trickery is this?* it wondered, watching its pack falter.
They were being outmaneuvered on all fronts, bested in areas where they should have reigned supreme and unbeatable. Both their vaunted teamwork and their superior senses were failing against the enemy's coordinated defense, and they had no counter-strategy to regain momentum.
Its claws dug into the frozen earth beneath the snow as rage began to build within its muscular frame.
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Forest Ambush
Meanwhile, deeper in the forest, another unsuspecting Grimfang fell victim to August's blade.
August had silently scaled a tree where the wolf stood guard below, unaware of the death descending from above. With calculated precision, August launched himself downward, thrusting his spear with all his might. The weapon pierced the Grimfang's skull with a sickening *puiikk*, dropping the creature instantly, dyeing the ground red of its blood.
Another one down—eight more to go.
August glanced back toward the village, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. "Finally, a duel with the pack's leader," he whispered to himself, anticipation sharpening his senses.
He sprinted through the snow-laden woods, moving from shadow to shadow until he arrived behind the massive veteran Grimfang. With practiced skill, August hurled his spear toward the wolf's exposed back.
The weapon cut through the air with a whistling crack—a deadly projectile flying between trees, breaking the sound barrier with its speed and force. But when the spear struck the ground with a thunderous *bang*, sending snow and dirt flying skyward, there was nothing there.
As the debris settled, August realized his spear had missed its intended target. The veteran wolf had somehow detected the approaching threat and leapt away just in time, avoiding what would have been a mortal blow.
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The Fated Duel
Now alerted to August's presence, the veteran Grimfang turned to face its attacker. Its gaze fell momentarily to the spot where it had stood seconds before—there lay August's spear embedded in the ground, surrounded by a small crater from the impact.
Understanding dawned in the wolf's intelligent eyes. No wonder this entity had slaughtered the advance force with such ease. They couldn't have avoided such a devastating attack even if they'd sensed it coming.
The Grimfang growled, baring massive fangs toward its enemy. Its hackles rose along its spine, broadcasting its aggressive stance. Rage clouded its vision, and a primal chant echoed through its mind: *KILL! KILL! KILLLLL!*
It activated its signature skill:*Class V - Expert [Beast Berserk!]* - A beast's skill that invokes it to gain more power with each passing minute while injured.
Through countless territorial battles over its long life, the beast had honed this ability to perfection. The skill had been upgraded to its highest class within the expert rank—just one level away from reaching Master Rank status. Perhaps this battle would finally provide the breakthrough it needed.
A century ago, this veteran Grimfang had challenged its pack's Chief Alpha for leadership and failed dismally. Though they had been comparable in raw strength, the chief's superior battle skills had overwhelmed the challenger. Now, if it could kill the formidable human before it, the veteran might finally have a chance to elevate its own skill to that coveted higher rank.
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A Battle For Survival and For Glory
The wolf charged at August with frightening speed, leaping forward and sweeping its massive paws in a deadly arc. August evaded by a hair's breadth while simultaneously launching several arrows toward his attacker.
But the Grimfang demonstrated why it had survived so long—it either bit the incoming arrows out of the air, evaded them entirely, or swatted them aside with contemptuous flicks of its paws. August recognized immediately that this would be no easy victory.
He circled the beast, maintaining distance while firing a steady stream of arrows. Some found their mark, piercing the wolf's thick hide, but most were deflected. Seeing standard attacks weren't enough, August invoked his *[WIND BLADE - (CLASS II - NOVICE)]* skill, sending blades of compressed air slicing toward his opponent.
Soon the beast was covered with wounds, arrows protruding from its hide like grotesque decorations. Yet it showed no sign of slowing—indeed, it seemed to feel no pain from its injuries at all, its strength doubling with each passing minute.
August studied the Grimfang intently, noting the glazed look in its eyes. It was definitely in a berserk state—was that its special skill? The ability to fight on without registering pain?
A momentary lapse in concentration nearly cost August his life as massive fangs suddenly appeared inches from his face. The wolf, insulted by what it perceived as arrogance, had launched a lightning-fast attack. How dare this human divert his attention during their battle!
The veteran Grimfang's rage intensified beyond anything it had experienced before. Its attacks grew more vicious and relentless as it sought to tear apart the insolent being before it.
*Swoosh! Woosh! Bite! Slash! Bash!*
August felt the intensity of the assault escalate, pressure mounting with each exchange. He evaded, blocked, and countered with his short sword and shield, but the wolf had closed the distance, nullifying his ranged advantage.
The Grimfang had ignored its arrow wounds and Wind Blade cuts, charging forward with reckless abandon to force the fight into close quarters. Minutes passed in a blur of movement, and gradually wounds began appearing on August's body. His armor tore in places, and his shield developed worrying cracks.
The advantage he'd once held had evaporated. A quick glance at his status showed his MP at [4,000/5,712]—sufficient for a powerful 5% [Piercing Bolt]Magic Skill from his Guardian Beast 'Aetherwing.' He needed his spear for the finishing blow, and spotting it not far away, he maneuvered their battle in that direction.
When they reached the embedded weapon, August pulled it from the ground—but the movement forced him to momentarily take his eyes off his opponent. The beast seized the opportunity, claws raking across his exposed back with devastating force.
The impact sent August flying, his body tumbling across the ground until he collided with a tree trunk. Pain exploded through his system as the damage depleted 30% of his remaining HP.
*HP [16,589/41,472]:* His health had fallen to a dangerous level at 40%.
At least it hadn't dropped below 20%, which would have automatically activated his title ability, "THE ONE WHO STRUGGLES WITH DEATH." He'd been saving that for dire circumstances, but this situation was rapidly approaching that threshold. The bleeding wounds were steadily draining his life force, and his HP REGENERATION couldn't keep pace with the damage.
August groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, both his bones and muscles protesting. Thankfully, he remained conscious—a small mercy. He sensed rather than saw the beast's renewed charge and barely managed to leap onto a tree branch to evade crushing jaws.
It was now or never.
He channeled 500 MP worth into a [WIND BLADE - (CLASS II - NOVICE)] attack, launching multiple air blades toward the beast. The assault wasn't meant to kill but to distract and momentarily restrict the Grimfang's movement. As the wolf battled the invisible slicing forces, August summoned all his remaining strength and hurled his spear with deadly precision.
This time, he would not miss.
*Puiiikkkk! Crrrckkkk! Bang!*
The spear impaled the beast's body, pinning it to the ground. The Grimfang thrashed and howled, but could no longer free itself from the spot.
August immediately pooled 2,500 of his remaining mana to summon at least 5% of the Guardian Beast Power, his favorite low tiered skill in the Beasts Magic Skill Pool, the [Piercing Bolt]. Leaving him with only [1,000/5,712 MP] The air around him crackled with energy, streaks of golden and bluish light started dancing along his right arm as the sound of sharp lightning filled the clearing. With a final gesture, he unleashed the magical attack toward the veteran Grimfang, a whizzing sound zipped through the air.
*Bzzzzzkkkk! Puck! Bzzttttt!*
The Golden-Blue light illuminated the Grimfangs form for a blinding moment as the bolt pierced its skull. The massive creature convulsed once, then lay still—dead.
But victory had come at a steep price. August's back bore a ghastly claw wound, and his strength was fading rapidly. With what little energy remained before collapse threatened, he staggered down from the tree, where he stood on top of a branch and grasped the beast's fur in his bloodied hands.
Inch by painful inch, he began dragging the massive corpse toward the village—proof of his victory and warning to other Grimfangs that were still battling outside the village perimeter. Behind them stretched a macabre trail, their mingled blood staining the snow-covered ground in crimson patterns as August fought to remain conscious long enough to reach safety and fight off the remaining beasts...