The elderly commander of Watchtower D shouted, "Hold for five minutes! Just five, until one of the Lords arrives to assist us!"
As he finished his words, he turned toward the approaching horde, now rushing to scale the wall.
"Wonderful! Wonderful! Come closer—every step you take brings me more essence, more resources!" laughed the pale-skinned, white-haired boy without a trace of fear. His tone urged the monsters to hurry.
The commander frowned at the scrawny youth named Nym, baffled by his laughter in the face of such peril. And yet… strangely, the boy gave him a sense of safety—so much so that he even felt the urge to chuckle.
"Good spirit, kid. You're new, but your mind's steadier than some of the veterans."
"Oh, don't worry, old man. How about this: a little wager? Loser takes the other's shift next time."
"You're on. But what's the bet?"
The commander glanced at the icy swords hovering behind Nym's head.
"Kills, of course. What else?"
"Oh, this is going to be fun, boy. You're challenging a veteran here!"
"Then let's wait until they reach the wall," Nym replied.
Seconds later, the first of the pack slammed into the wall, clawing at the reinforced metal layered with hardened bone. One of them found a foothold and was only ten meters from the top. As it latched its claw onto the wall, a deep roar echoed through the darkness, like the growl of some ancient beast.
"Now! Fire anything you've got! They're here—nothing they can do while we're up here and they're down there!" the commander barked.
Arrows enhanced with elemental essence flew—but left only shallow wounds. Then came the real punishment: five icy swords rained down, radiating killing intent and a chill that froze even the nerves. The feverish beast hesitated at the sight of them—but not for long. One sword drove deep into its leg, grating against bone. Another gashed the nape of its neck. Two pierced through its gut and back, and the last burst out of its jaw. The monster dropped dead.
Nym's voice followed: "First blood, commander. Be ready! Hahaha!"
His swords vanished, then reformed—this time just two, conserving energy for the long haul.
"Alright, about… ten, maybe eighteen beasts are climbing the wall? I don't know. All I know is—plenty to kill."
"Ira, drop on them."
("Yes, my lord.") Her sweet voice rang in his head.
The fox beside him transformed into a miniature blizzard—sharp and deadly—and descended upon the wolves. One vanished into the storm, its pained howls echoing as though being torn apart piece by piece. And that's precisely what was happening.
("My lord! My lord! I love this—this is art! This is beauty!")
Dear gods, why does everyone around me have bizarre, chaotic traits? But… I like this part of you, Ira. Good work. Your master is proud of you.
("Heeheehee~ Thank you, my lord!")
Just as Nym finished his moment of levity amidst the battle, one of his swords plunged into the eye of a beast, and the other slashed deeply into the flank of another.
"Oh… I didn't mean to do that."
Suddenly, the air before Nym turned frigid. The wind stilled, and the air itself felt tangible. He had invoked Absolute Zero—but the strain was so great he nearly vomited blood. Manifesting two powers at this level was almost too much.
The two monsters struck by his swords died swiftly, and the weaker among the horde began to freeze and slow down. The other conscripts beside Nym continued launching arrows, fireballs, and crude stone spikes down the wall. Everything was working—until a five-meter-tall wolf leapt over the wall.
That's when the massacre began.
The beast drove its horn into one of the conscripts, lifting him into the air in a grotesque display. Nym didn't even have time to marvel at how a person could hang like that.
"Ira, to me!"
("Coming, my lord!") Her voice now carried a flicker of panic, but Nym didn't care. He was focused on killing that cursed monster.
A chilling storm surged into Nym's body. It merged with him, flooding him with immense strength and essence from the World Core. He ran toward the empowered wolf that was chasing the fire-wielding boy—who was fleeing in panic—then crashed into the beast.
It was no minor clash. The impact unleashed a gust that blew the fire-user away. The wolf staggered, retreating a few steps. But standing in its path was not a fellow beast—no, it was a human. A monster, yes, but human in form.
The wolf could tell. This was a predator, not prey. Its instincts screamed at it to flee, but its brainless nature forced it forward. Kill! Kill!
It lunged at Nym.
But what blocked it wasn't a human body—it was a sword of ice. The blade sliced across its front leg. Then, Nym appeared behind it, cutting into its hind leg, leaving a long, narrow trail of blood.
Damn it… what kind of toughness is this? Is it the pack leader? Nym thought.
He seized the moment, dashing under the beast to strike its belly. But what he saw next was the wolf's massive paw hurtling toward him—like swatting a fly.
That was the last thing Nym saw before darkness swallowed him.
BOOM.
The body—if it could still be called that—of a human slammed into the tower, smashing stone and carving a deep, bloody crater into the wall of frozen rock.