The formation settled into place.

  Most of the northern soldiers closed ranks around the students, shields raised, eyes narrowed against the biting snow even with Toby’s debuff. Adam and Leo stood at the front, their armor dark against the white expanse. Boris and Andel flanked them—spear and lance fully drawn. Behind them stood Kana, Rin, and Roy. Then came Suri, Yuri, and Toby near the rear—each readying their spells, the faint shimmer of mana coiling around them like heat in the cold.

  At the back, Wor-en and Zia observed quietly. Neither spoke. They were the anchors—the ones who would only move if things truly went wrong.

  The snow ahead shifted.

  Shapes emerged from the blizzard—first shadows, then outlines, then the glint of eyes like shards of blue ice.

  It wasn’t one type of creature. It was everything.

  Frost Wolves with ribs poking through pale fur. Ice Lizardmen, their weapons glowing faintly with enchantment. The hulking forms of Yetis and Ogres lumbering behind them. Farther still, serpentine bodies slithered and twisted through the snow—Hydra variants with more frost than flesh.

  And at the very rear—half-hidden by the storm—stood a dozen undead wizards. Their robes were tattered, their frozen hands gripping staffs that pulsed with dim, sickly light.

  The storm howled as they came.

  Yuri swallowed, her breath visible in short gasps. “Kana… are you sure about this?”

  Kana didn’t answer at first. Her eyes were fixed forward. Then, she looked back and smiled—a sharp, confident grin that didn’t quite match the scale of what they faced.

  “Have confidence,” she said. “You might not realize it yet, but you’re way better than before.”

  There was no trembling in her voice. No hesitation. Just certainty—like she already saw the victory written somewhere beyond the snow.

  Yuri exhaled slowly, tightening her gloves. “Alright. [Enhance Speed],” she muttered, light wrapping around her legs. “I’ll cast my second skill if necessary.”

  “Since it only lasts a minute, save it for when you feel we need it,” Kana said. “It’s your call when we use it.”

  Kana pointed ahead, red eyes glinting. “First, we break their formation. Confuse them before they reach us. Boris—you go first. Hit them hard.”

  Boris grinned, tapping his enchanted spear against his shoulder. “Yes. Leader!”

  “Kana, you’ll open with arrows until your quiver’s dry,” Wor-en called from the back.

  Kana nodded. “Roy, your summons will support Boris. Focus on weaving through their lines—cut off any who break through.”

  Roy gave a tired smirk. “Don’t worry. My favorite bone will do a deadly dance as long as I have mana.”

  “Adam, Andel—you back Boris. Don’t overextend. We’re not breaking the wave, just making it stumble.”

  Adam’s shield hit the ground with a dull thud, planting himself like a wall. “Understood.”

  Andel spun his lance once, letting out a quiet breath. “I’m ready.”

  Snow swirled thicker now, the world growing dim as if the sky itself were holding its breath. The monsters marched closer—each step a drumbeat against the frozen ground.

  Kana drew her bow, the familiar tension of the string singing in the storm.

  “This is where we level up,” she whispered and let out a grin she couldn't contain.

  ….

  Then, the first arrow flew—splitting the silence like thunder.

  It landed exactly where Kana intended. The shaft pierced through the skull of a Frost Wolf mid-leap, snapping its neck with a wet crack. She didn’t stop to watch it fall. Her fingers blurred—string, draw, release—over and over, faster than the eye could follow.

  The wolves that darted left, the lizards that zigzagged low—none escaped her aim. Over twenty arrows loosed in a heartbeat, each finding its mark. The storm itself seemed to have no effect on her precision.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Kana’s mana pulsed through her body, burning with her [Trueshot] passive skill. Her breath fogged white. Her arms trembled, but she didn’t stop.

  Not this time.

  This was her moment to go all out.

  Then, the ground screamed.

  Boris erupted from the snow in a blur, his presence flaring like a drawn blade. His voice cut through the blizzard.

  [Cleave]

  The earth cracked. A line of frost and shattered ice split outward, throwing monsters off their feet. The sound was like the sky itself tearing apart.

  The formation broke—half the horde turned toward Boris’s sudden emergence, instinctively charging the threat that burned brightest.

  Adam and Andel sprinted forward. Their boots crunched through the snow, shields locking into place beside Boris. Adam caught a leaping frost wolf mid-air, its claws scraping across his shield. Andel countered with his lance, thrusting clean through its ribs and flicking it aside in one motion.

  Boris fought with measured rhythm now—gone was his wild [Giant Spear] form. Every strike landed where it mattered. His spear became a living extension of his will, parrying claws, stabbing throats, cutting through sinew and frost alike.

  “Hold!”

  “Now!”

  The northern soldiers roared in unison. Their discipline showed—they advanced and held like clockwork, shields braced, spears thrusting in perfect timing.

  Roy’s summon—a skeletal figure cloaked in now wearing black tight robe—wove between Boris and the monsters, bones cracking as it struck, slashing through lesser beasts with uncanny grace. Each time a monster fell, it moved on without pause, like a conductor’s hand guiding a deadly symphony.

  Behind them, Suri’s illusions shimmered into form. A second line of phantasmal beasts appeared, translucent but solid enough to confuse the enemies. Wolves howled at false copies, striking illusions that vanished with a hiss of mana.

  The effect worked—the enemy charge slowed, its front dissolving into chaos.

  Rin’s eyes darted everywhere, her hand gripping her blade tight. She wasn’t focused on monsters; she was watching for movement that didn’t fit. Kana had warned her—somewhere among the enemy, there might be humans leading this attack.

  “Focus Rin!” Rin muttered to herself, mana building in her mace.

  Wor-en had moved closer to Yuri, his stance protective but relaxed. He had seen enough battles to know when to intervene—and when to let his students prove themselves.

  And Zia—

  Kana glanced once toward where the woman had been but saw nothing. No sound, no presence. It was as if Zia had melted into the storm itself.

  Kana forced herself to focus.

  She drew again—her hands aching, the bowstring biting her fingers raw. Her mana flared as she sighted another Frost Wolf through the swirling snow.

  Steady.

  She exhaled.

  And loosed.

  …

  Snow whispered across the hill, curling around five figures cloaked in black. They didn’t move much—only their eyes shifted, watching the battle unfold below. The cloaks weren’t ordinary. Enchanted silk, layered with thin magical steel and spellproof weave. They muted presence, and blurred outlines—made their wearers feel more like shadows pretending to be human.

  “Kids are holding better than I thought,” said the tall one, voice calm and steady. He leaned forward slightly, watching the students fight with a spyglass. “That [Archer]… she’s hitting every target she sees.”

  “They’re good,” the shortest replied, her tone sharp as the edge of her dagger. “But not as good as us.”

  Their leader didn’t respond. He was watching the battlefield—watching her. The red-eyed girl, bow flashing. She fought like someone who’d seen too many monsters already. Too calm. Too efficient.

  Another figure crouched beside him, smaller, with a sleek mechanical crossbow resting on his knee. The weapon gleamed faintly, runes flickering along the wood as he twisted the dial and checked the wind. “That one’s mine,” he said, voice low and eager. “And the what they called [Illusionist] or something, the one beside her. Two arrows and we’re done.”

  “Don’t underestimate them,” the tall man said.

  “Please,” the crossbowman muttered. “This bow here is a very different beast. I doubt this kingdom knows its existence.”

  He spoke like an artist defending his masterpiece. The weapon looked half mechanical, half alive—the limbs pulsing faintly as if the wood still remembered being part of something breathing. The runes along its spine thrummed softly with power.

  “They’re saying there should be a Silver-ranked adventurer among the group,” said another voice from behind, quiet but thoughtful. “I don’t see one.”

  “Maybe the intel’s wrong again.”

  “When isn’t it?” Another muttered.

  That earned a chuckle from the fifth cloaked figure—an older man whose hair, streaked gray at the temples, peeked from beneath his hood. “We’re the Tail Unit of the empire. We are always successful even with the wrong intel.”

  The tall man finally stood, brushing snow from his gloves. “You all remember our orders. We cut off the head, not the body. Those students and northern soldiers don’t matter. The red-eyed girl and the red-haired girl do.”

  He paused, eyes narrowing as Kana loosed another flurry of arrows below—each strike precise, deliberate, firing down to monsters faster than most soldiers could react. The tall man’s expression shifted slightly. Not surprise.

  “She’s fighting like someone who’s been killing a monster since she was born,” he murmured.

  “Good,” the crossbowman said, drawing a bolt from his quiver. “Today is her last. I will protect our monsters.”

  He slid the bolt into place with a satisfying click. The air around him shimmered faintly, the cloak’s enchantments bending light as he adjusted his aim. The crossbow’s limbs tightened, vibrating with restrained energy.

  “Remember,” the tall man said, raising a gloved hand. “We strike after the third knock.”

  Another nodded, blades sliding free. “And if the Silver shows up?”

  He was concerned, the adventurer guild itself was in a neutral position. If someone would report that they murdered an adventurer it means a heavy price to pay coming from the empire and their lives would be one of the prices.

  “Then,” Their captain said softly, “We.. burn everything. No need to hold back.”

  Snow drifted heavier now, blanketing the hill. Below, the students pressed forward, unaware of the eyes that had already marked them for death. The crossbowman took a breath, slow and steady as if warming up. The glowing runes along his weapon seemed breathing.