Aeron’s head perked up disturbingly, feeling something… something disrupting the settled mist.

“Henrik, stop the clansmen.”

With a nod, Henrik used one of his Ordeal Abilities — the reason why he was a trusted and invaluable aid to the clan head.

The clansmen tasked with being the vanguard and scouts quickly reformed and merged with the main moving company.

Henrik also was able to improve these gallant clansmen’s ability to discern and roam the treacherous embrace of the Longing Mist.

“Count!” Aeron bellowed, graveness rippling through the crowds of men and women.

“All’s well under Vare.”

“Mine as well.”

“I have all my men.”

Assuring himself and the others that something wasn’t amiss, Aeron’s eyes narrowed as he peered far ahead.

“Brace!” Aeron barked, his bearing changed, and drew his broadsword and shield as within a mere blink he was almost at the front.

Despite how chaotic the sudden orders were, the hunting company was trained and disciplined — clansmen tempered against the horrors of the Outer Valleys.

Quickly, Path Finders who possessed defensive capabilities mounted the front alongside their dear clan head.

As they all formed into their positions and formations, they braced themselves despite the eerie quietness that muffled everything under the mist.

Nothing happened despite Aeron’s orders, but they weren’t foolish enough to disregard the senses of a Third Ordeal.

And as if the mist agreed with their clan head, a quiet ruble spread throughout the ground.

Small stones lifted and increasingly became more violent as… something approached.

Then cutting through the air, indescribable sounds and roars reached their ears and everyone tightened their grips in anticipation.

The sudden sound was enough to tell them… whatever was approaching wasn’t simply a single beast, no matter how powerful.

It was an entire onslaught, a wave of such creatures of the mist.

‘Third Ordeals… if it was just one, then—’

Suddenly, the mist parted with a quick billow and a humongous tree broke through the murky sky — at least for those who can see it.

Aeron didn’t respond with any words, but from his shield a piercing shriek wailed and cried out, and a monstrous mix of a mishappened woman and steel clawed out of its surface.

Heavy steps sounded and with a ferocious snarl lept up to meet the approaching towering tree, smashing it to mere splinters.

Another deformed person — a man of lustrous steel emerged from within his shield. It was a sinewy and stout man with an arm too large it was as though it was made into a cudgel as he dragged it across the ground.

Then another.

And another.

Within seconds, ten fearsome amalgamations — crude and vile-looking crosses between beast, human, and steel now joined the ranks of Clan Grimm.

Yet, Aeron himself didn’t know if all his strength was enough to hold back what was approaching.

A vast cacophony of screeches and bestial roars sounded and the trampled earth was groaning impossibly close to them, yet the mist hadn’t cleared enough for the First Ordeals to see.

Aeron eyed Henrik wearily, then gave a curt nod.

“Fire!”

From behind, all the ranged Path Finders fired whatever they could into the obscured fray of mist. From spires of stone, titanic arrows and bolts, arcs of lightning, and even a wailing circular blade, they all knew their attacks struck true from the thuds and cries of beasts.

But before anyone could revel in their kills, the first line of beasts came.

A monstrous-looking beast, much worse than anything Aeron could produce crashed into the stalwart front line.

Feet dug into the earth. Metal and steel creak. Men and women groaned in response.

But it held, and the first line of many crumpled before their shields.

Somehow, Aeron was able to place much of his ten steel amalgamations to face against the most harrowing of the beasts in advance — mainly due to his senses as a Third Ordeal able to peer into the mist much further than the rest of Clan Grimm.

He even funneled much of the horde to fit accordingly to the strength best fit of his clansmen.

“Hold!” He sharply yelled before issuing another command, “Kill!”

The command sliced through the air, igniting a frenzy amongst Clan Grimm. In a seamless, disciplined movement, the warriors surged forward from behind a wall of shields.

Their formation remained tight as madness and fury took hold, yet their movements were precise, honed by endless drills and battles. Each step echoed with purpose as they descended on the beasts like a wave crashing upon the shore.

Swords slashed through thick, sinewy flesh. Axes cleaved into limbs with sickening crunches, and spears jabbed forward, plunging deep into the side of the creatures. Blood sprayed through the air, staining the ground as the clan warriors bellowed with roars.

The stalwart shieldmen stepped forward, their movements synchronized from years of discipline outside the walls. Thick shields, reinforced with Path Beast remains, locked together with a resonant clang, creating an impenetrable wall.

The formation shifted with precision, disciplined to perfection, as they braced themselves for the retaliation of the remaining beasts.

“Kill!”

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In the next moment, Aeron rushed ahead deep into the fray of beasts… his monstrous pawns were best brave the brunt, easing the pressure of the first wave before they followed him into combat.

Aeron was like an indomitable stone in the river, unassailable despite the raging current.

He fought grounded as one with the earth below his feet as he steadily cut down the beasts, no matter if they were of the First or Second Ordeal.

It was best this way… he has refined his War Art to encompass this way of battle — to fight as a group, a formation with just himself. He controlled every one of his steel-like pawns as though they were his fingers.

‘I’ll kill it before it tramples upon the company…’ He thought before lunging ahead towards a particularly weak Third Ordeal Path Beast.

It was best to decimate the weakest first if he couldn’t find what was leading this amount of different Path Beasts into such a vast horde.

‘What could inspire… or force such beasts to gather? Not so far from our fortress as well.’

Dodging a blade-like and titanic arm, he had the rest of his pawns butcher the creature as he occupied its attention, quickly dismantling it.

‘We can’t retreat… the moment we turn around, even if all the Second Ordeals and myself hold the rear there are still too many. We’ll cut down as muc—”

“Urk!”

But then one of his pawns couldn’t dodge in time and was battered below the ground.

Another Third Ordeal appeared, wielding a cudgel the size of a humble home cleaved through the air as it let out a guttural roar.

It was an ugly thing, fat and horrendously large with mishappen growths all over it, Aeron began to have his other pawns rip into its leg, staggering the giant.

The cudgel swung again, but Aeron was already prepared for it and moved himself and his pawns accordingly.

Without a moment's rest, the warped face of a screeching woman jutted from his shield towards the neck of the lumbering beast.

Horrible deep wails sounded from the giant as the face took something more than mere flesh and blood from its bite.

But Aeron would be a fool to not take advantage of its staggered lapse.

And so he quickly dismantled and toppled the giant with the might of five steel pawns along with himself without another thought. The enraged giant waved its fat arms, but although its might and size were quite strong for its level, even possessing a weapon that fit its strengths… it wasn’t a match for Aeron.

However, Aeron wasn’t satisfied with the kill. Lifting his gaze into the misty expanse, his eyes raised in shock as his eyes caught the glimpse of something he felt was too much for him. It was nothing more than the wisps of black, like the ends of a frayed cloak at the end of how far his eyes could peer into the mist, it disappeared as fast as it appeared.

Murderous… and malevolent. Just a slight gauging of its presence was enough for Aeron to immediately throw his pawns ahead of him before he roared something to his clansmen in order to save as many as he could from what he feared would happen with the appearance of such a being far away.

“Henrik! Sound the retreat! I’ll cover the rear alongside with Second Ordeals.”

Noticing the long-forgotten face of worry on the head of Clann Grimm, Henrik immediately understood that Aeron found something deadly enough with his senses as a Third Ordeal enough to retreat despite knowing the consequences of such a hastily made order.

But he complied as usual, and he gave the order, eventually joining the line of Second Ordeals he relayed the intents of the Aeron to hold the rear.

‘Just what did Aeron find?’ Henrik wondered, bringing himself beside the other Second Ordeals as they braced themselves accordingly.

From within the entire crowd of guards… Osias found a bright presence that didn’t belong in such a dreary and filthy place.

‘The Black Warden’s daughter? Is this the opportunity?’ He thought.

His mind was hiding a storm within as he tried to figure out what to do. It was sudden despite the few days of waiting. But his time was coming!

“My lady, pardon my insolence, but please… your father would be furious with us if we allow you to continue any further.” A pleading voice sounded from one of the First Ordeals. Osias recognized this one as the one who took over the reins whenever the warden wasn’t present.

“What is the matter? He’ll no longer be a prisoner in the coming days anyway. There is no danger.” A soft voice sounded.

Osias narrowed his eyes as he studied the girl in question — now being so close, only separated from him by bars of rusted metal and tens of armed and armored guards.

She was an Ordinary, with a slightly chubby face and figure. She wore a dress of dark green unfitting for a trek below the Black Warden’s keep.

Round eyes and long curly golden hair, she reminded Osias of a plump peach in the summer.

“Ah! There he is! The champion of a hundred golden talons!” She said, her neck and eyes swiftly glazed over the many seated prisoners, landing on Osias who fronted them all right against the cells.

“My lady! That’s too close for you.” A guard said, but it was a fruitless warning as she lifted her dress slightly in her dash towards the cells.

‘Do I grab her now? Or when the cells ope—’

“Visalros the champion… to think I can meet you first before the other ladies!” She said in a excited tone before turning to the First Ordeal guard at her side with a stern expression, “Open the cell, bring him to me. I don’t want to remain in such a place any longer. I told you all earlier that it would’ve been easier if you brought him up rather than me having to walk in this… filth.”

“Y-yes my lady.” A guard said with a sigh, opening the cell with a piercing creak. “Visalros, come. You know this already.”

Stepping to his feet with the rattling of his chains sounding, Osias rose to his full stature as he glared down at the guard. His hands were dirtied with the rotted food, and his face and body were once more covered in the filth of the prison. He reeked like a prison rat as they’d called him, but he couldn’t care less as his eyes met the guard.

The guard’s hair bristled and nervously laughed was half a titter and half a whimper — perhaps an attempt to calm himself as the other guards and the daughter of his lord watched him pull Osias out of the cell.

And just as the armored hand reached for Osias’s wrists where his shackle covered, Osias rejected his pull with a scornful face.

“Visalros, don’t test me now.” The nameless guard hissed out quietly, tugging his wrists once more.

But Osias withstood the weak pull of the guard once more.

“Hey! Visalros, don’t think that whore would save you here. You’re still a prisoner.” The guard said in a threatening whisper to not let his lady hear him.

“Morment! Just cut him a little… did winning the tourney get to his head? Our lady’s waiting you fool.” The First Ordeal beside the Black Warden’s daughter harshly yelled as more guards fitted through the cell’s open entrance to deal with Osias’s disobedience.

‘Three First Ordeals and ten Ordinaries.’ Osias counted those who entered the cell.

And suddenly, his eyes changed and a wicked smile stretched on his face.

In the next moment, the weak chains that held together his shackles were split apart by the force of his hands. Faster than any of them could react, Osias clasped both of his hands above him in a swift motion into something akin to a hammer and roared as he pummeled the turned head of the First Ordeal guard into a bloody mess.

Already realizing such a thing was bound to occur the moment something so unnatural occurred at this hour, Yoren pounced at an Ordinary guard with a snarl and wrapped his chains around the neck of the guard.

And within moments… chaos followed.

Osias dashed with all his might, even cracking the worn down black stones below his feet, throwing the withered husk of the guard who not only died under a single blow but was also drained from Blood Reave in death at the closest First Ordeal guard with an impossible speed just as they struggled to unsheath their sword.

But Osias swiped the blade from the side of the husk already and drew the well-made weapon as well as slashing it in a wicked arc in a single motion, beheading the flustered guard.

“Arm yourselves, brother!” He shouted with the rage of the enchained.

“You fools!” A sharp cry sounded from behind the cells as the guards scrambled in response to Osias’s and the other prisoner’s abrupt actions.

It was uncalled for. All of them were obedient and weak all this time… for years!

Many of the other guards weren’t as well equipped as usual, as their lady made such a spontaneous decision just as they were finished with their daily duties, ready to return to their homes.

But Osias moved like a feral monster as now all three First Ordeal guards fell without warning. They were First Ordeals!

The guards closest to the cells were now over their surprise, slowly shuffling the screaming lady who fell on the wet filth below her at the sight of blood and savage prisoners.

“Fight! Kill! This is our time! I’ll lead you to the slaughter!” The champion named Visalros bellowed.

‘Wait… wait! This can’t—’ Some of the guards thought in unison, just as they witnessed the leader of these prison rats raise the stolen blade.

And before their eyes… the rusted gate was split asunder under the wrath of his shackled hands.