The mercenaries left the village like men marching toward glory.

They were trying to mimic soldiers going off to battle, but their lines were too loose and their armor was mismatched. Some even joked as they walked forward. Others checked their weapons, tightened straps, or passed flasks of liquor between one another to fight off the morning cold.

They still had some form of discipline, and their movements had purpose, so they weren’t civilians either.

They obeyed their captain to a T and followed him with reverence. In this company, there was a saying that if the captain left, the whole mercenary band would be disbanded. When they entered the forest, the jokes also stopped, and the whole group became alert.

They had done a hunt like this before. That was why they were confident. Although that wyvern had still been growing up.

The captain walked near the front, with his axe across his back, scanning the surroundings.

"So what’s the plan?" one of the mercenaries asked.

The captain did not look back. "Same as always. We find the wyvern’s nest, force it lower to the ground, pin the wings, and drag it down."

A few men grinned with confidence.

"Sounds simple, captain."

"Well... it won’t be. This one is apparently an adult wyvern," the captain said.

That killed some of their grins.

He stopped near a cluster of frozen pines and raised one hand, making everyone halt.

The captain crouched as he spotted barely visible claw marks, half-frozen, on the bottom of a tree, carved into the bark.

"A frost lynx. We’re in its territory," he said.

The others spread out without needing to be told twice.

He pierced the snow so he could sense the ground around him and saw that the lynx actually wasn’t far away. In fact, it was already preparing an attack.

"Shields up!" the captain barked.

A storm of ice needles burst from between the trees.

A barrage of thin and sharp needles sliced through branches and punched through tree trunks with dry cracking sounds. The front line raised shields. Two earth-affinity mercenaries slammed their hands into the ground, and rough stone walls burst up through the snow.

Ice shattered against the enchanted shields and rock wall.

The attack that should have torn them apart in a surprise was blocked.

"Forward!" the captain ordered. "Keep the formation tight! Jack, Ulrich, fall back and circle around!"

Two men broke from the formation at once.

Jack and Ulrich were both wind-affinity fighters, light on their feet and faster than the rest. Wind gathered beneath their boots as they retreated, lifting them just above the snow. They moved without leaving any tracks, gliding between the trees while the others pushed forward under the rain of ice.

The frost lynx revealed itself only when the front line came too close.

It leaped from a snow-covered tree, its pale fur blending almost perfectly with the forest. Blue-white mana clung to its claws and whiskers, and its eyes shone like beads of frozen glass.

It struck the stone wall with enough force to crack it and hit the mercenary behind it, making him stumble back.

The captain dashed in, rocks underneath his feet pushing his advance, and swung his axe coated in diamond for extra weight.

The lynx was agile enough to twist away and sent another burst of ice needles across the clearing. Shields rose again. A man cursed as one needle pierced his shoulder, but he kept standing.

"Hold it there!" the captain shouted.

The front line pressed forward.

The lynx snarled, then tried to retreat into the trees.

That was when Jack and Ulrich struck from behind.

A wind barrier stopped its retreat, and multiple slashes aimed at it.

One blade cut across the lynx’s hind leg. Another struck its flank. The beast spun, hissing, and lunged at them with terrifying speed. Jack barely dodged, his cloak tearing and freezing over as claws passed inches from his chest. Ulrich was not as lucky. The lynx slammed into him and sent him rolling across the snow, blood spraying from his arm.

But the ambush had worked, and the lynx had stopped its retreat.

The rest of the mercenaries surrounded it and pressed forward.

Steel, fire, and stone closed in from every side. The beast fought fiercely, throwing ice, clawing, biting, and trying to break through the circle.

But then the captain’s axe buried itself into the lynx’s neck, and it collapsed, twitching, its blood steaming against the snow.

A cheer went through the group.

Ulrich groaned as Jack pulled him up.

"Still alive?" Jack asked.

"Haha, barely."

The mood was cheerful, and the others laughed.

The captain allowed it for a few seconds. They had earned that much.

Then he looked toward the mountain.

"Let’s move. We still have a wyvern to kill."

Their confidence after that victory grew.

The frost lynx had been dangerous, but they had handled it well. No deaths. One bad wound, but nothing a potion and a bandage couldn’t fix.

They continued toward the base of the mountain, where the trees thinned and more fresh snow made it harder to walk. The wind blew cold air across because of the lack of trees, making every breath sting.

They found a cave a few hundred meters up the mountain, but when they wanted to regroup from the harsh wind and cold, a surprise waited for them inside.

A low growl rolled from the darkness, followed by heavy footsteps quickening their pace toward the exit.

"Get ready, boys!" The mercenaries stopped at the mouth of the cave and raised their shields, weapons ready.

Through that cave, an ice troll came charging, bursting out like a giant boulder. It was huge, pale, and hunched, its thick hide covered in frost and old scars. Its arms were long enough to match a man’s height. It had tusks protruding from its mouth, which opened wide enough to crush a skull between its teeth.

"Brace!" the captain shouted.

The troll smashed into their front line, snow and stone exploding outward.

A few mercenaries were clipped by the swing and sent crashing into the cave wall. Their shields were bent inward, and they had a few broken bones from that exchange.

The captain cursed. "Fire! Burn it down!"

Four fire-affinity mercenaries surrounded it, and their flames roared through the cave entrance, washing over the troll. The beast howled and swung blindly, its burning skin already beginning to knit itself back together.

Trolls had an unnaturally high healing ability, and although fire was their weak point, an ice troll negated some of that, making the fight real ugly for the mercenaries.

It charged through the flames and hit the vanguards hard, smashing their shields and breaking their limbs. It almost managed to chew a face off after it grabbed someone, but the captain managed to hack its hand off before it did.

Still, it thrashed around and heavily wounded most of them. Luckily, the fire mages kept themselves out of harm’s way and kept burning it.

Slowly, the troll’s regeneration weakened. Its wounds stopped closing, and its movements dulled to some extent. The captain saw his opportunity for a charge.

He blasted himself forward with a rock platform underneath his feet. Flying through the air, he managed to drive his axe deep into the troll’s skull before it reacted.

And the beast finally stopped moving.

This time, nobody cheered for a while, only heavy breathing. Then someone finally laughed after a few moments.

"That," Jack said, wiping blood from his mouth, "was the ugliest thing I have ever seen."

They had to use several potion flasks after that. For the men with crushed ribs and arms. It was nothing too detrimental, but enough to remind them that the fight ahead of them would not be easy if a troll did that much damage.

Still, they continued onward after a brief rest in the cave.

Teclos rolled his eyes...after that exchange, they should’ve know that the wyvern up there would masacre them, since they could barely handle a measely troll.

By the time they reached the middle of a high slope, the sky had turned grey, and a razor-sharp wind clawed at them from every direction, obscuring much of their vision. The captain slowed the march and looked up toward the mountain peak with a bad premonition.

"Walls!" the captain suddenly roared.

The snow above them broke loose in a massive white wave.

It came down with the sound of thunder. The captain and two earth-affinity mercenaries slammed their hands into the ground. Stone walls rose in front of the group, rough and uneven, but strong enough to take the brunt of the force.

A massive avalanche hit them, and the world became white.

The men huddled close to the wall, but there was not enough space and too much snow. A few of the mercenaries were buried underneath and dragged somewhere far away from the rest of the group.

When the shaking stopped, the captain shouted, "Brace!"

"Captain! We lost some men!" one man shouted.

The captain looked up.

"No time, BRACE!"

A massive shadow passed over them.

The wyvern.

It was larger than they had expected. Much larger. With a massive wingspan and pure white scales covering its body, it looked like the king of the skies. Its cruel blue eyes looked upon the pests that dared invade its territory.

Ice spears rained from the sky.

The mercenaries tried to block them as best they could. But the ice spears broke through the shields and rock walls, impaling and killing some of the mercenaries.

Before they could recover or get their bearings, the blizzard hit them.

Frozen wind and snow crashed into them like a tidal wave, swallowing the slope in white frost and crawling over their armor. Fingers stiffened around sword hilts, boots froze to the icy ground, and every breath they drew burned in their lungs.

The captain forced himself upright and tried to keep them moving.

"Don’t stop! Fire mages, create a fire wall! The rest of you, shoot it down!"

But the wyvern was too smart. It did not give them a chance to pin its wings. And the fire wall was barely holding against the frost.

It kept bombarding them from above with ice spears and its frozen breath until their formation broke apart piece by piece.

The fire mages were soon impaled or frozen solid as the wyvern started targeting them. After that, the rest were easy pickings.

The captain watched his men and plan die around him.

Then he made the only choice he had left.

"Retreat!" he shouted. "To me! Now!"

Only a handful heard him, and of those handful, barely any could still move.

The captain dropped to one knee and pressed both hands into the frozen ground. His earth mana surged downward, fighting the ice, stone, and snow beneath them. A tunnel opened slowly. It was too narrow and rough to save everyone.

If the other earth users had still been alive, it might have been enough for everyone.

But they too were dead.

"Inside! Quickly!" the captain roared.

Barely five half-frozen mercenaries reached him, and no more.

The captain went last, forcing the tunnel shut behind them just as the wyvern’s breath struck the entrance. Ice sealed it instantly, and the snow above collapsed over it, burying the path beneath tons of frozen weight.

The tunnel ahead was dark, narrow, and half-formed. In some places, they had to crawl on their stomachs, scraping armor against stone and frozen earth. It was not poor control. The captain had made it that way on purpose, saving every bit of mana he could so the tunnel would reach the outside at all.

At last, after a grueling effort by the captain, they broke through the lower slope near the base of the mountain, and the survivors stumbled out into the open air.

There were only six of them left, including the captain.

Everyone else was gone.

"Run," the captain said in a hurry.

And they ran toward the forest.

Far away, from the shadow the ridge provided, Teclos watched them from the shadows and shook his head.

They were not out of the wyvern’s detection range yet.

Worse, they stepped onto open snow and announced to the wyvern that they were still alive.

Unsurprisingly, the wyvern noticed them.

And a screech split the sky.

The survivors looked back.

Only to see the wyvern already above them, with ice gathering around its mouth.

The captain cursed and tried to raise another wall, but he was too slow this time to block it entirely.

Its breath came down like winter itself.

The mercenaries froze mid-step and shattered as they hit the ground.

The captain managed to block part of the blast, but not enough. Ice crawled over his arms, his chest, then his throat, until he too stood frozen among the men he had failed to save.

They failed the hunt completely.

The wyvern circled once above them to make sure, then turned away and flew back toward its nest.

Only when it was gone did Teclos move.

He appeared beside the captain’s frozen corpse and looked down at him.

He shook his head.

"Sharp instincts," Teclos muttered. "Poor judgment."

The shadows swallowed him again.

He continued his hunt until evening, feeding, refining, and growing stronger while the village waited for heroes who would never return.

When Teclos arrived back at the Frosted Ram, the mood inside was still merry.

People laughed with their mugs clinking together. Someone talked about preparing a feast. Another joked that wyvern meat would make the stew famous across the north. Selma moved between tables with a bright smile, and Fred listened from behind the bar, clearly hoping tomorrow his tavern would be booming even more.

Teclos stepped inside like usual, sat down, and waited for his food.