Damnit. Shit. Damn foolish plans and the lack thereof. Walk into a pack of sleeping beasts and pay no attention to the beasts still trying to eat.

Even if I wasn't an assassin, this was poor ranger work. My only saving grace was no witness... and the greedy scavengers were not planning to share their new meal.

The beasts' growls were silent, and their tongues licked their blood-covered lips—the taste boosted their appetite. Their muscles strained in anticipation. It became too much for one giddy prowler. A cry of delight shattered our perverse, intimate moment. The laughter was met with growls of dissatisfaction. The beast next to the yapper nipped the culprit's ear. The yapping got louder. Shit.

The slumbering beasts no longer slept. The ice lickers abandoned their post. All twenty-four beasts were focused on me. My heart was pounding. My thoughts sang the chorus of a coward. The beat was wrong, and the lyrics were repetitive and a repeat of the previous verse. The message was clear.

If this was any other life, I'd run. Bloody abyss, I wouldn't be in this mess if this was any other life. I knew I couldn't sneak up on the beasts. It was a suicide plan from the start. However, my life was not like any other, and it would be just as foolish to treat it as such. After all, what was life if it was not to waste? I would waste a thousand if I could stand at Lana's side again.

Impassioned by the thought of a fool, I abandoned my sneaky stance and squared up for a fight. Fluid power cycled through my channels. I harnessed my power and manifested an iced dome around me and the sleeping beasts. I was still vastly outnumbered in my shell. Before the trapped beasts could attack, I opened and fled from my shell, locking them in a snow globe prison. I reinforced the shell with more mana and then darted back to the forest.

Turns out, the mind and heart curated passion. If they weren't convinced, neither was I.

Wolfbears hounded my back as I water anchored toward the forest. Their hot breath pressed on my back. I sensed their drool dripping to the ground, only to be torn apart by the claws ripping into it. The same claws hoping to rip into me. We were in a full sprint, the predators and the prey; the forest was growing closer but not at the rate of wolves. In a surge of force, a wall of water exploded behind me, becoming a barrier of ice.

I heard the slams of heads crashing into my barrier but didn't dare turn around. Not yet. I sprinted another fifteen yards and created a dome of ice that reached my wall. The stragglers weren't phased by my blockade and navigated around the wall with the elegance of ever-sidestepping critters. My barrier formed a second too slow, trapping two of the clever side-steppers inside with me.

I drew my frozen claymore with leather grips of holding from my back. The wolfbears worked together to divide my attention; one stalked to the left and the other to my right. The other beasts have recovered, though a couple are still severely shaken and are ripping into my dome. I reinforced my barricade with more mana as I danced with the beasts inside. The grand rank beasts were massive before. Trapped inside with me, they seem to double in size. I was unsure my bubble was big enough for us. The wolves were certain it wasn't.

Outside my dome, the wolfbears spread out in their hunting formation, simultaneously curbing my cowardice.

I threw an ice spear at the wolf on my left. The spear strikes the beast's face. It whimpered and snarled, losing only a moment of focus. The beast on my right used the opening of my throw to attack. It lunged in the air, mouth wide open, and fangs glaring at me. Its front legs spread wide with its claws unsheathed.

I froze the ground as soon as the beast was airborne. With a lunge of my own, I slid beneath the pouncing predator and rammed my claymore into its belly. My sword, caught in the fur, flesh, and ribs of the beast, ripped from my hands, leaving me with a leather grip and no sword.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

I cursed my foolish craftsmanship. Cutting my slide short, I pulled back on a water anchor, and got to my feet.

The skewered beast made a mess of my ice field with its vile blood. With my sword stuck in its belly, it couldn't stand upright and struggled on its side, howling in anguish. If it were still a common rank beast, it'd be frozen. Now, my mana barely slowed the upgraded beast.

Spearface, the only standing wolfbear in my dome, recovered from my initial spear throw only to slip on the ice. As it struggled to stand, I threw two more spears at it. Both hit the wolf directly, once to the side and once more to the face. Neither had the power to break the skin.

I refined the next spear with a long and slender point. It was more delicate, but if I landed a direct hit, I was sure it would do some piercing.

I lined up my throw as the beast shook off the second spear to the face and attacked.

Spearface, confident in its thickness, didn't waste its time dodging. It stood its ground and took the spear to the throat like a champion. To Spearnecks credit, my pointy stick didn't slam through as deep as I thought it would, and only a few inches of the tip punched through. Still, any stick to the throat hurt, and extra damage was calculated if the stick was stuck in the throat.

Between Swordbelly and Stickthroat, the sound inside the dome was horrendous. Gurgling, hacking, howling, growling, and still laughter—which seemed entirely inappropriate.

The beasts outside the dome were no different. They watched with callous hunger, drooling at the mouth to get a piece of the action. They would get their turn. I summoned a war pike and cautiously walked toward Stickthroat; it made the most unpleasant noises of the two and was a clear contender for victim number one.

My strike hit quick and true, silencing the beast with one fell swing.

Growling coming from Swordbelly turned to whimpering. It tried to crawl away but didn't get far. I left the two beasts where they lay. Blood puddled and melted the ice below.

I took a deep breath, calculating my next fight, and added more ice to the ground and my shell. A cloud of steam began to form inside. Before it could block my view from the outside, I selected my target and let the next fighter enter my cell.

Brokenfang, a wolfbear named after the peculiar fang snapped at its girthy midpoint, had a psychotic whistle to its growl. Psychotic because it was clearly hurt, and yet it laughed and growled as it frantically bounced back and forth on the ice as if jumping gave it a better footing. The blood dripping from its face did the animal no favors in mental stability, nor did the jumping save it from my icey field.

Brokenfang slipped, slamming its body on the ground with a thud. The beast couldn't pull its legs back in to regain its footing, and I pelted it with several of my special piercing spears. It took eight hits to freeze the beast and three hits with my hammer to shatter it.

My fog completely enveloped the inside of my dome, concealing me entirely from the outside. Confidence pooled to my side, growing by the minute.

I opened the dome, letting two beasts in. One had an injury pulsing near its eye. The other was a masterful sidestepper who practiced not only agility but caution as well. The monsters stayed side by side, hugging my barrier.

Though I stood near the two beasts, I didn't feel the weight of their gaze upon me. Their first mistake was not sensing my presence when they entered, and their second was entering my dome.

I stepped away from the false barrier the beast used for security and rammed my short spear into the back of the beast near me. Bloodeyes stiffened but couldn't move. My spear severed a nerve, dealing a critical hit. Trepidsteps, true to character, stepped trepidly away from the wall and soon-to-be corpse Bloodeyes.

I discovered in my mist if I applied a shroud of mana around me, I washed myself away from others' perception. Or at least that was my theory at work.

Although I remained at Trepidstep’s side—giving enough space for Trepids to be within reach of my spear but not close enough to risk bumping into it—the beast couldn’t sense me. Trepid kept its body low and prowled the perimeter. With every step I took, stalking the beast, my theory became a reality.

Inside my shell, I was a ghost. I slayed the weary walker silently. As his body hit the ground, I opened the barrier for my next victim.