"Not a merchant?" The pale man inquired with a broad grin on his face.

"I never claimed to be 'merely' a merchant, lad," the dwarf responded with a deep and rumbling voice. "A wise merchant knows that sometimes, it pays to keep a few tricks up his sleeve," he added, stroking his thick, rich-brown beard.

"Indeed, you didn't," Aron acknowledged, turning to the battalion of dwarves standing rigidly at attention behind Dwalin. Their disciplined ranks and gleaming armor spoke volumes about their well-honed training.

"So to what do I owe this honor?" Aron asked, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the dwarf with curiosity.

"One moment." From the bag atop his 'mighty' steed, Dwalin retrieved an object, presenting it to Aron.

"The Iron Prince sends his regards and wishes to convey his gratitude," Dwalin said, handing over a small, intricately carved chest.

Aron accepted the chest, his fingers brushing over the cool metal, feeling the weight of whatever was inside. Opening it, he found a small black metal ingot and an iron ring with runes engraved on its surface.

"By the order of the Iron Prince," Dwalin began, dropping to one knee, "The Hearthhold offers their assistance in defending the Great Wall."

"I see," Aron said, narrowing his eyes and towering over the short dwarf. He then shifted his gaze to the army, who followed their commander's suit, kneeling before him.

From what Aron could see, their numbers were about 1,500 dwarves. Yet it wasn't the numbers that caught Aron's attention; it was what they brought with them: siege weaponry.

Massive ballistae, some simple in design, firing arrows, others a combination of multiple ballistae in one, strange-looking trebuchets, but the most peculiar was a weapon that Aron was certain was a furnace. There were five of them, on wheels, each attached to a long metal pipe with an opening shaped like a dragon's head.

"What are those?" Aron asked, pointing at the peculiar furnaces.

Dwalin stood up, turning to see what the Lord Commander was pointing at. Then his grin widened. "Those, lad, are dragon's breath cannons. A new invention of the Iron Dwarves. They spew fire, enough to turn any enemy into ashes."

Aron's eyebrow twitched slightly, hearing that. 'Dragon's breath? Oh, please… the real dragon's breath will burn even ashes. Something that can't achieve that doesn't deserve to be called a dragon's breath.'

"Good," he said, eyeing the cannons. Then he turned to Dwalin, saying, "We can use you. Welcome to the Frostguard, mis—" however before he could finish his words.

CLING! CLING! CLING!

A ringing echoed throughout the fortress from specific bells, causing everyone to freeze in place.

"Don't tell me…" Immediately, Aron sprinted back inside, with Dwalin swiftly following him, seeing the look on his face.

…

Ten minutes ago.

"Ahhh!... This is life," a man with silver hair and red eyes said, enjoying his rest from patrolling the Everfrost. He was inside a small post on top of the wall with his two watcher friends.

"Indeed, I bet this is the best thing that came out of our awakening," one of the watchers said, his mouth full of meat.

"True, and for our little thing, this is great," the third one exclaimed, taking a puff from a pipe.

Men sometimes find joy in the simple things, and on occasion, they might resort to complex measures simply to savor the simple things, and these three watchers were no exception.

They encountered a little problem. Each of them possessed an item. Consumable to be precise. One had a delightful ale from the north. Another possessed a substantial portion of roasted meat. And the last one held in his possession one of, if not the single most prized possession created by the Hobbits.

The Greenfoot leaf. The oldest and the most prized leaf of the Hobbits. A rare leaf that can only be found in the heart of the Greenfoot shire. A leaf that can make even an orc feel like he is in heaven. Some rumors suggested that this was one of the reasons that forced the Hobbits out of Arcadia, as other races discovered immense profit in exploiting the simple halfling folk.

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Returning to the watchers, the three of them desired a taste of everything, but the problem was that they had a meager amount, enough for just one, perhaps two people. Their solution?

"This is weird, the taste in my mouth, the ale, the meat, and the leaf all at once," one remarked.

They utilized their newfound mutation link to share their senses. One consumed the meat, another drank the ale, and the last one puffed on the pipeweed. Thanks to the link, each one of them felt as if they were experiencing everything simultaneously.

"Hmm?" The watcher indulging in the ale caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye as he raised his mug to his lips. "What's that?"

He stood up, scrutinizing the vast, frozen wasteland of Fenris. But he saw nothing. "Did I just imagine it? Perhaps it's the leaf or the ale?"

"No, you saw it." The other two spoke simultaneously, having their senses shared, they witnessed what he did. The three swiftly exited the post, scanning the horizon, their eyes narrowed. And for a long nine minutes filled with tension, they spotted nothing, until...

"There!" The watcher with the meat pointed at something in the distance.

"What is that?" The ale watcher inquired.

"I don't know, but it's moving fast," the pipeweed watcher said.

The three of them watched as the object in the distance grew bigger and bigger until they could make out what it was.

"A wolf?" The meat watcher asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

"No, it's too big to be a wolf," the ale watcher said, squinting. "It looks like a... bear?"

As the massive creature drew closer, they could see that it was indeed a bear, but not like any they had ever seen before. It stood on its hind legs, its fur a mix of white and gray, blending seamlessly with the snowy landscape. Its eyes shone with an intelligent light, and its claws were as long as daggers.

"A bear in these frozen wastes?" The pipeweed watcher shook his head. "That's unusual."

"Maybe it's merely passing through?" the ale watcher suggested.

"No!" The meat watcher interjected, his tone turning grave. "I recall the Elf Keeper mentioning powerful spells within the surrounding mountains. No creature can approach with such ease under its influence."

This watcher was a survivor of last year's event. "Only during a specific timeframe can they approach."

"W-What timeframe?" the ale watcher stammered, his voice trembling.

The meat watcher offered no reply. He pivoted towards the ancient silver bell affixed to the wall. "The monster waves!"

CLING! CLING! CLING!

…

"REPORT!" Aron roared, landing on the wall with a resounding thud.

"My Lord," one of the watchers, the one who rang the bell approached him, slamming a fist to the chest.

"My Lord, we spotted a creature resembling a bear moments behind the wall," he indicated the direction where they had spotted the bear.

"!!!" Aron's eyes widened the moment he scanned the horizon with his dragon sight. "Sound the alarm!"

"Eh?" The watcher blinked, taken aback by Aron's sudden command. But he didn't care about them at the moment.

"MEN TO THE WALL!" Infused with mana, his voice boomed like thunder, echoing throughout the entire fortress.

CLING! CLING! CLING!

All the bells along the Wall resonated in response to his order.

"Hmph…what's happening lad?" panting heavily from the bloody long stairs Dwalin inquired.

"The waves are upon us," Aron replied grimly. "FUCK!...this is too early," he cursed out loud.

According to the original timer, they had three weeks before the waves commenced, and if Grunt's premonitions were accurate, then it should have been one week. However, the waves had decided to arrive unexpectedly, not one, not two, but a staggering three weeks ahead of schedule.

"LORD COMMANDER!" Eamon called out, reaching the top of the wall.

"Eamon, are the men ready?" Aron inquired, fully aware of what the hunt master's reply was going to be.

"N-No, my lord, we require more time," Eamon stammered.

The repairs were progressing smoothly, and most of the structure was complete. However, the fortress was nowhere near finished. The siege weapons weren't even loaded.

ROAR!!

From within the snow, hordes of monstrous creatures emerged, roaring and snarling, their eyes fixed on the fortress. There were beasts of all shapes and sizes—wolves, bears, trolls, and creatures that defied description. Their numbers were vast, stretching as far as the eye could see, and without hesitation, they charged.

"We don't have time," Aron's eyes narrowed as he absorbed the horrifying sight before him. The monsters were cunning, having managed to sneak close to the wall through underground tunnels. Thankfully, his dragon sight allowed him to see them clearly.

"Dwalin, get your men inside swiftly, I need those siege weapons operational," he commanded, his gaze fixed on the approaching horde. "Eamon, prepare the defenses. I'll buy you all the time I can."

"Yes, my lord—...buy us time?" Eamon stammered, trying to confirm what he had just heard. But Aron had no time for repetition.

"MY LORD!" Everyone exclaimed in shock, witnessing Aron as he leaped from the wall.

"What is he doing?" Dwalin bellowed, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"He is buying us time," Eamon replied, his voice filled with determination. "MEN TO YOUR POSTS, DEFEND THE WALL!" he roared.

THUD!

Leading with a powerful impact, Aron drew a deep breath and cracked his neck. He glanced at his shadow, relieved that Kasumi wasn't present.

ROAR!!

"Good… now," he gazed at the coming hordes of monsters. In his right hand, a long ebony serpent greatsword materialized in his grip. Python's new crimson serpent eyes glowed with excitement.

From his inventory came a dragon-shaped head, ebony greataxe. Nightfall's edge shined with a dark light as if it was happy to be back in battle. With a bloodthirsty smile, Aron declared for all to hear.

"Let the carnage begin."

[Skill activated: Greed and Wrath Fusion: The Crimson Shroud]