Sniff.
Arden's nose was wide open, taking in the cold and frozen air of the mountains.
He crouched low against the rocks, his Shadow Devil core active.
Black hair.
Void eyes.
Nearly invisible against the pre-dawn darkness.
Behind him, seven others waited in silence.
The group he'd hand-picked for this mission:
Rykard floated six inches off the ground, his three swords orbiting soundlessly.
The telekinetic had perfect control—not a single blade made noise despite the constant motion.
Elara crouched beside Arden, twin swords ready, her sharp eyes scanning the terrain with tactical precision.
She'd reviewed his plan yesterday and made three improvements he'd missed.
Serra stood slightly apart, frost patterns spreading unconsciously across the stone where her hands rested.
The cold didn't bother her.
If anything, she seemed more comfortable here than in the fortress.
Brick grinned, his massive mace resting on his shoulder.
Tattoos visible on his forearms despite the cold.
He'd been disappointed when Arden explained the plan—wanted more direct combat.
But he'd agreed once he understood his role.
Kari checked her equipment nervously, dual-soul condition making her eyes seem to glow faintly.
Naval specialist or not, she'd volunteered immediately when Arden asked.
Garrett looked terrified, pressed low against the rocks.
He'd tried to refuse three times.
But Elara had convinced him—his Wind Strider core made him essential for the escape plan.
Thrain flexed his massive hands, Stone Bear Integration making his skin noticeably tougher even without active reinforcement.
He'd be their anchor point.
Their immovable foundation.
Arden took another deep breath through his nose.
Before long, a faint but foul odor caught his attention.
It was dirty and disgusting, but oddly... familiar.
Like meat left to rot in summer heat mixed with unwashed bodies and old blood.
There.
The unique smell of Ironhide Berserkers.
Of a battle waiting to happen.
"Contact," Arden whispered, his voice barely audible even to those beside him.
"Thirty meters northeast. Multiple targets."
Rykard's swords stopped orbiting, going perfectly still.
Elara's hand tightened on her sword hilts.
They moved forward with silent footsteps, staying low.
The mountain pass opened into a small ravine—perfect ambush terrain.
Arden reached the overlook first and looked down.
His breath caught.
There they are.
Twenty Ironhide Berserkers.
Massive eight-foot-tall humanoid monsters with skin like iron plates.
Some had their heads buried inside the corpse of a massive frost bear—easily twice the size of a normal bear.
They were horrible monsters who clamored while holding the ends of bright red guts.
Who ate the flesh that had fallen on the frozen ground.
It was the ugliest and most primitive of sights.
Yet also... strategic.
They killed a frost bear. That means they're establishing territory. Claiming this pass as their hunting ground.
If we let them settle here, they'll cut off our eastern patrol routes within a week.
Elara crawled up beside him, surveying the scene.
"Twenty confirmed," she whispered.
"Feeding formation. Distracted. Perfect opportunity."
Arden nodded.
He raised his hand slowly, running through tactical signals.
Rykard moved into elevated position—his floating ability letting him achieve angles others couldn't.
Serra positioned herself on the left flank, where her ice magic could create maximum disruption.
Brick and Thrain took the right side—the heavy hitters who'd absorb any counterattack.
Kari found cover behind a large boulder, her Tide Caller abilities ready for support.
Garrett stayed at the rear—escape route secured, Wind Strider core prepared for emergency extraction.
Elara remained with Arden—they'd lead the initial strike together.
But before they could launch the ambush, a sound leaked out.
Stone scraping against stone.
Garrett had shifted position and knocked loose a small rock.
It clattered down the slope.
At that moment, the Ironhide Berserkers stopped their feast.
Massive heads turned in unison.
Listening.
Sensing.
Crere.
The Berserkers made an uncomfortable guttural sound, their primitive instincts alerting them to danger.
One of them raised its head fully toward their position.
It smeared bright red blood across its chin, scanning with small, cruel eyes.
Its flesh was darker than the others—deeper iron-gray rather than lighter steel-gray.
Thicker hide.
More scars.
More mass.
Alpha. The pack leader.
The Berserker Alpha locked eyes with Arden.
Its appearance was so heinous that ordinary soldiers would have been paralyzed just by meeting its gaze.
Muscles like corded steel covered in that iron-like hide.
Hands that could crush a man's skull like an overripe fruit.
But Arden felt no fear.
Only... familiarity.
Hello, old enemy. It's been a long time.
He smiled.
A light seemed to explode from the Berserker Alpha's eyes as recognition sparked—not of Arden specifically, but of threat.
"GRAAAAAAAHHH!"
The Alpha roared.
The sound echoed through the ravine like thunder.
Every Berserker immediately dropped their feast and grabbed weapons.
Crude axes.
Massive clubs.
One had what looked like a tree trunk reinforced with scavenged metal.
"Shoot," Arden said calmly, standing up from cover.
Rykard's three swords launched forward like missiles.
Serra released her ice magic—not a direct attack, but area denial.
The ground beneath the Berserkers' feet became a skating rink of frost.
Kari's water manipulation created strategic puddles that would freeze instantly with Serra's follow-up.
And Arden...
Arden caught the longing that had been building since they'd left Kar'eth.
The suppressed anticipation of real combat.
Not training.
Not exercises.
Battle.
His Shadow Devil core surged to full power.
Darkness wrapped around him like living smoke.
He drew his steel sword—the blade seemed to drink in the shadows, becoming nearly invisible.
And he jumped.
Thirty feet straight down into the ravine.
Shadow Step activated mid-fall, teleporting him past the first line of Berserkers.
He landed behind the Alpha, rolling forward, coming up with his blade already cutting.
The sword struck the Alpha's back—
Clang.
The iron-like hide turned the blade.
Of course. Standard weapons don't work. That's why they're so dangerous.
But Arden had expected this.
He didn't try to cut through the hide.
Instead, he targeted the joints.
Where the iron plates met.
Where flesh was exposed.
His blade found the back of the Alpha's knee—the soft spot behind the thick hide.
Slash.
Blood sprayed.
The Alpha roared in pain and rage, spinning with impossible speed for something so large.
Its massive fist came down like a hammer.
Arden Shadow Stepped again.
Appearing ten feet away.
The Alpha's fist cratered the ground where he'd been standing.
Strong. Even stronger than I thought.
But strength means nothing if you can't hit your target.
Above, Rykard's swords were doing their work.
Three blades moving independently, each one targeting joints, eyes, exposed flesh.
One Berserker went down with a sword through its throat—Rykard had found the gap where neck met shoulder.
Serra's ice magic created chaos.
Berserkers slipped on the frozen ground, their massive weight working against them.
One fell and couldn't get back up—the ice was too slick.
Brick and Thrain charged in from the right flank.
"FINALLY!" Brick laughed, his mace swinging.
A Berserker blocked with its forearm.
Crack.
Even the iron hide couldn't fully absorb Brick's enhanced strength.
The Berserker's arm broke.
And when it tried to counterattack—
WHAM.
Brick took the hit deliberately.
Let the Berserker's fist slam into his ribs.
His Progressive Annihilation technique activated.
All the damage he'd just absorbed...
Redirected.
Amplified.
Returned threefold.
His next swing hit like a ballista bolt.
The Berserker's chest caved in.
It flew backward fifteen feet and didn't get up.
Thrain was less flashy but equally effective.
His Stone Bear Integration made him nearly immovable.
When a Berserker charged him, he planted his feet and caught it.
Absorbed the impact.
Then lifted.
An eight-foot-tall, half-ton monster.
Lifted over his head.
And threw it off the cliff.
"Holy shit," Garrett whispered from his position at the rear.
"They're actually winning."
Elara moved like water through the chaos.
Her twin swords found every weakness.
Every gap.
Every exposed joint.
She didn't try to power through the iron hide—she went around it.
Under the arms.
Behind the knees.
The soft flesh of the inner thigh.
One Berserker fell with both hamstrings severed.
Another went down clutching its throat where she'd found the gap in its neck plating.
She made it look easy.
Like she'd fought these things a hundred times before.
Maybe she has, Arden thought, watching her.
Maybe that's her secret too.
Kari's water manipulation proved more useful than expected.
She created pressurized water blasts that didn't damage the hide—
But did stagger the Berserkers.
Pushed them off balance.
Set them up for follow-up attacks from others.
And when one Berserker got too close to Garrett's position—
Kari unleashed a water spout that slammed into its face.
Not harmful.
But blinding.
Giving Garrett enough time to use Wind Strider and run.
"I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE!" he screamed, moving at impossible speed.
The Berserker tried to chase.
Slipped on Serra's ice.
Fell.
Rykard's sword found its eye socket.
Problem solved.
The battle lasted twelve minutes.
Arden danced around the Alpha, his Shadow Step making him impossible to pin down.
Every time the Alpha swung, he wasn't there.
Every time it turned, his blade found another joint.
Another weak point.
Cutting tendons.
Severing muscles.
Death by a thousand cuts.
Finally, the Alpha fell to one knee.
Blood streaming from dozens of wounds.
Its iron hide had protected it from fatal damage—
But couldn't prevent the accumulation of smaller injuries.
Arden appeared in front of it.
Eye to eye.
"You were strong," he said quietly.
Then Shadow Stepped behind it.
His blade found the gap where skull met spine.
Thrust.
The Alpha shuddered once.
Then fell forward.
Dead.
The remaining Berserkers—those still alive—broke.
Primitive intelligence recognized defeat.
They scattered.
Running into the mountains.
"Let them go," Arden commanded.
"We accomplished the mission. No need to chase."
His team regrouped in the center of the ravine.
Surrounded by twenty Berserker corpses.
Brick was bleeding from multiple wounds but grinning like a maniac.
"THAT WAS AMAZING! Did you see that one where I—"
"We all saw it, Brick," Serra interrupted, though there was a slight smile on her face.
Rykard was breathing hard, his three swords finally still, dripping with dark blood.
"Efficient. Sixteen confirmed kills across the team. Zero casualties. Acceptable outcome."
Thrain sat down heavily on a boulder.
"My arms hurt. That last throw nearly dislocated both shoulders."
Kari was bouncing excitedly despite the gore covering her uniform.
"We did it! We actually did it! Twenty Ironhide Berserkers! The textbooks said you needed a full company!"
Garrett finally emerged from his hiding spot, looking pale.
"I almost died. At least three times. Maybe four. I want it on record that I almost died."
"You were fine," Elara said, cleaning her blades.
"You were never in real danger."
"THAT THING CHARGED ME!"
"And you outran it easily. Wind Strider core. That's why we brought you."
Arden surveyed the battlefield.
Twenty Ironhide Berserkers.
Dead.
His team was injured but alive.
Mission accomplished.
Better than in my novel. In the original timeline, the full company operation lost eight soldiers and took three hours.
We did it in twelve minutes with zero deaths.
"Collect proof of kills," Arden said.
"Commander Thorne will want confirmation. Teeth, claws, whatever's easiest to carry."
"On it," Elara said, already moving.
The others followed her lead.
Except Serra, who approached Arden quietly.
"You knew exactly how to fight them. Every weakness. Every vulnerable point." Her ice-blue eyes studied him.
"How?"
Arden met her gaze steadily.
"I read extensively about frontier threats. Academic preparation."
"That wasn't academic knowledge. That was combat experience."
She was right, of course.
But he couldn't tell her the truth.
Not yet.
"Sometimes studying something thoroughly enough is almost like experiencing it," he said carefully.
Serra held his gaze for a long moment.
Then nodded slowly.
"Fine, Arden. I'll trust you." She paused.
Then she walked away to help collect proof of kills.
Leaving Arden alone with his thoughts.
She's too perceptive. They all are.
But we won. That's what matters.
And we bought Kar'eth some breathing room before the real crisis hits.