[06] BLOOD ON THE SNOW

「ON THE BATTLEMENTS」

The soldiers were already in position, their arrows nocked. Those with swords stood before the gate, waiting for it to open.

Commander Gareth stood in the middle, giving commands, when the Javiers arrived along with Cris—who was obviously losing his mind, his panic written all over his face.

When Gareth noticed the presence of the Javiers, he immediately ran toward them.

“Your Grace! My Lordships!” he called. “It is not safe. They are goblins, a Level D threat.”

The four looked down, and it was indeed goblins. Some held bows, others swords, their size roughly that of a regular man.

The level of monster threats was divided into five, with Level E being the least dangerous and Level A the highest. And the one that stood above Level A: “Hakai,” meaning Destruction-level threat.

“Goblins are considered Level D because of their wits, but they are not hard to deal with,” Gareth explained.

“We will watch,” Marcus said. “Don’t worry and focus on your job.”

“Very well, please be careful.” Gareth then returned to his post, and the gates opened as the soldiers charged out.

“READY! RELEASE!” Gareth commanded, and the archers loosed their arrows.

“Ten archers, and fifteen below,” Rhys observed. “I thought they had around a hundred?”

“When I got here, they had almost lost one wall. Lots were injured, too,” Eliana answered. “Also, some went home. Usually, Level D doesn’t require much manpower, so they don’t signal for backup from those on rest.”

“Hmm. That’s understandable. When we got here before, there was almost nothing to defend,” Kaelen said, which made them all look momentarily pained. “Ahem. Anyway, the archers are inefficient.”

“The sword users are also dull,” Marcus chimed in.

“They’re mercenaries. And they lack training,” Eliana said. “I wish they could also use guns. They’re more effective and safer.”

“Did you purchase an item already, Lia?” Kaelen asked.

“Yeah, two weapons. And this set of tactical gear,” Lia answered, crossing her arms as she peered down at the goblins.

“I also bought mine! I chose an AK-47 design—15% damage, 15 MP per shot,” Kaelen said, so proud of his purchase. “Cost me 250,000 EXP. Tsk, what a stingy system.”

[ADMIN B: IT’S CALLED BUSINESS, KAELEN.]

“See?” Kaelen said to his siblings.

“I also bought one. Mine’s designed like an H&K MP5 9MM with an 8-inch Silencerco Octane 9HD suppressor,” Rhys said proudly. “It’s 13% damage, 15 MP per shot, and it cost me 275,000 EXP.”

“What? Sorry, I fell asleep. It sounded so boring,” Kaelen shot back.

“What did you say, you jerk?!” Rhys looked pissed.

“What about you, brother?” Lia asked Marcus.

“Come on, Lia, what does he need a gun for?” Kaelen scoffed.

“Stupid. Brother Marcus was the one who needed a gun the most. Remember, he was the head of intel in the GSD. Infiltration was his forte,” Rhys said.

“That’s right. Didn’t he marry that mafia daughter back in Germany?” Lia jested.

“It was a fake marriage with a fake identity. And I never even shared a kiss, let alone slept with her,” Marcus said.

“Whoa. Calm down, that rejection is too strong,” Kaelen said. “So? What did you buy?”

“A regular pistol design, for now. I just wanted to check the specs and usability level,” Marcus explained. “13% damage, 12 MP per shot. It also cost me 220,000 EXP.”

“Have you all also purchased a set of tactical gear?” Lia asked.

“Yup, we all bought it together. These noble clothes feel uncomfortable now. Besides, we don’t need them in the North anyway,” Rhys explained.

While they were talking, a red hologram shimmered in front of each of them with a sound like a warning alarm.

[!!WARNING!!]
[LEVEL OF THREAT: A]
[MONSTERS: WYVERN APPROACHING]

“LEVEL A?!” the four shouted, making Gareth and Cris—who was talking to him about the goblins—look over.

“W-what’s wrong, my lords?” Gareth asked.

[ADMIN A: GEAR UP!! WYVERNS ARE COMING!]
[ADMIN B: MAKE SURE TO STOP THEM!]

“I never remembered any of this happening in the early years before!” Lia yelled at the air, addressing the System Admins.

[ADMIN A&B: WE DIDN'T SEE THIS COMING EITHER!]

“FUCK!” Kaelen yelled.

“Calm down!” Marcus barked. “They’re here.”

“What the?! Those are wyverns! Why now?!” Gareth shouted.

“AAAAH!” Cris screamed, hiding behind Gareth.

“This is bad. At this rate, they’ll fly straight to the town square!” Rhys said.

“You guys handle the front. We don’t have enough manpower here to stop them. They’ll find their way over the walls,” Lia said. “I’ll protect the town square.”

“Lia, no!” Kaelen protested.

“Kaelen, I’m not some spoiled noble anymore, and you all know it. We spent most of our years on Earth, each of us performing our own deadly missions,” Lia said.

“Lia’s right. We’re not some puny, naive newbies. We’ve seen scarier than this… for example, that fatty, greedy mafia daughter…” Marcus said.

“You’re the only one who saw her, though,” Rhys pointed out.

“That’s not the point!!” Marcus snapped. “Kaelen, protect the sky. Rhys, purchase another weapon and hold the battleground. And Lia, go to the town square.”

“Lordships, what are you doing?! Get inside—they’re here!” Gareth pleaded.

“Lend one of your best fighters to Eliana, Commander Gareth!” Marcus ordered.

“What? Please—” Gareth began.

“I have no time to explain! Give me one of your strongest soldiers!!!” Marcus shouted.

“Tomas!!” Gareth yelled to the soldier who was focused on shooting the approaching wyverns.

“Yes, Sir!” Tomas answered, running toward them.

“Go with Her Grace!” Gareth commanded.

“Oh, great. Tomas, was it? Come with me to the town square,” Lia said.

“For what? They need manpower here, Your Grace,” Tomas argued.

“We’ll kill the wyverns they fail to fend off,” Lia clarified, her voice cutting through the chaos. “In other words, we’re the ones who will be protecting the townspeople.”

“Enough talking! Move, move!” Marcus barked.

“Yes, Sir!” the four siblings responded like veteran soldiers.

Rhys didn’t need to be told twice. His mind was already in the system menu, fingers moving through holographic options only he could see. Sniper. Long-range. High damage. Something that can punch through scales from a distance.

[ITEM PURCHASED: "LONG SHOT" MANA SNIPER RIFLE]
[DESIGN: BARRETT M82A1]
[DAMAGE: 22% PER SHOT]
[MANA COST: 25 MP/SHOT]
[SPECIAL: "PENETRATOR ROUND" (ACTIVATES ON EVERY 5TH SHOT, IGNORES 50% ARMOR)]
[COST: 300,000 EXP]

“Nice,” Rhys muttered as the heavy, sleek rifle materialized in his hands. He slapped the bipod down onto the battlement stones, his eye already scanning the sky through the scope. The wyverns weren’t just big—they were fast, their leathery wings carving through the freezing air. He breathed out, his finger resting on the trigger guard. Wait for it.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

-TOWNS SQUARE-

Lia didn’t wait for a horse to be brought. She vaulted over the low wall of the battlement, landing in a roll on the hard-packed snow of the inner courtyard. She was up and sprinting toward the stables before Tomas had even processed her movement.

“Your Grace! Wait!” Tomas shouted, scrambling after her.

She didn’t. By the time Tomas reached the stable, Lia was already astride a large bay mare, its eyes rolling white at the distant shrieks. She tossed him the reins of a sturdy gelding. “Ride or die, Tomas! They’re already past the wall!”

He looked up. She was right. Three dark shapes, smaller than the main group, had broken formation and were diving low, skimming over the fortress rooftops toward the cluster of wooden buildings and smoke that was the town square.

They kicked their horses into a gallop, bursting out of the castle gate and onto the main road. The world became a blur of frost and fear. Villagers were screaming, running for cover. The first wyvern shrieked overhead, a shadow that blotted out the weak sun. It opened its maw, and a stream of acidic green liquid sprayed down, dissolving the thatched roof of a storehouse in a hiss of smoke and sparks.

“SHIT!” Tomas yelled, yanking his horse to the side to avoid the splatter.

Lia didn’t swerve. She leaned low over her mare’s neck, her mind clear and cold.

The people from their homes—now ruined by wyvern acid—started running out into the cold town square.

“FUCK! TOMAS, GO AND EVACUATE THE PEOPLE!” Lia yelled.

“Y-yes, Your Grace!” Tomas immediately ran toward the people who needed to get out of their homes.

The wyvern’s acid had missed the main crowd, but the terror was complete. Panic was a thicker, deadlier poison in the air. Tomas was already shouting, physically hauling people out of doorways and toward the stone cellar of the old granary.

Lia’s horse reared, spooked by the acrid stench and the monstrous shadow banking for another pass. She slid from the saddle, hitting the snowy ground in a crouch.

This is frustrating. If only I could reach them! Her eyes tracked the wyvern’s path. It was circling, lining up for a strafing run directly over the widest part of the square, where a cluster of women and children were stumbling, frozen by fear.

[ADMIN A: CALM DOWN, LIA! AUTOMATIC PROTOCOL ENGAGED! I WILL EQUIP THE WRAITH HARNESS!]

There was no flash of light, no dramatic materialization. One moment, Lia was standing in the snow in her tactical gear. The next, she felt it—a series of smooth, mechanical clicks against her ribs, hips, and spine as the integrated systems of the Wraith Tactical Harness locked into place. A low, resonant hum vibrated through her bones, synchronizing with her mana core. A sleek, black helmet unfolded from the collar of her gear, encasing her head with a heads-up display flickering to life.

[TARGET LOCKED.]
[TRAJECTORY CALCULATED.]
[FUEL: MP. CURRENT POOL: 140/150.]

The wyvern dove, its maw gaping, a second torrent of acid building in its throat. The people below screamed, covering their heads.

Lia didn’t scream. She acted.

Her body moved on pure, honed instinct. She sprinted forward, not away from the line of fire, but perpendicular to it, building momentum. Then, with a mental command that felt as natural as breathing, she activated Phantom Steps.

FWOOSH!

Twin jets of compressed, brilliant blue mana erupted from the thrust modules on her hips, launching her not into the air, but in a blindingly fast, low horizontal dash across the open ground. She was a blur of black and blue, closing the fifty-yard gap to the terrified group in less than two seconds.

She skidded to a halt directly in front of them, her boots digging furrows in the snow. She didn’t even look back at the people.

“STAY DOWN!” she roared, the command amplified by her helmet’s external speakers.

She was so focused on the wyverns in front of her when another, smaller one slipped through and charged directly toward where the people were gathered.

Fucking monster!

She immediately swung around to shield the people, firing two quick shots into the neck of the approaching wyvern.

FWOOM! FWOOM!

She knocked it down, but before it fully died, it spat a final burst of acid that splattered and burned the skin of an old woman beside her.

“AHHH!” the old woman moaned in pain.

Eliana grit her teeth in anger. She saw a group of shivering children nearby.

She took off her winter coat and handed it to the children. They looked up, confused.

“Wear it. Wait for a while. I’ll make sure you can go back home,” she said, and then she was gone.

The children were stunned and touched by her kindness. The adults around them were also in tears. A noblewoman had willingly handed over her coat—which probably cost thousands of gold—to freezing commoners.

The wind, razor-sharp and laden with ice, sliced through the thin material of her black sleeve the moment she handed her coat away. A full-body shiver wracked her frame—a violent, involuntary tremor that had nothing to do with fear. Stupid. Sentimental. Stupid. But the children’s wide, frozen eyes had short-circuited her logic.

[SYSTEM ALERT: BODY TEMPERATURE CRITICAL. ENVIRONMENTAL RESISTANCE: INSUFFICIENT.]

Shut up and track the targets! Lia snarled mentally, forcing the cold into a box at the back of her mind. A soldier’s trick. Tsk. This gear's cold resistance is useless if you don’t wear the complete set.

[ADMIN A: THAT’S WHY YOU SHOULD ALWAYS WEAR IT PROPERLY!]

The two remaining wyverns, seeing their smaller kin downed, shrieked in coordinated fury. They split, one climbing for another acidic dive, the other banking hard to come at her from the side, claws extended like scythes.

Flanking maneuver. Basic. Predictable.

But her body was already protesting. The Phantom Steps dash had burned a chunk of her MP and sent a hot ache through muscles that weren’t yet conditioned for that kind of explosive strain. Her breaths came in sharp, white plumes, her lungs burning with the frigid air.

She calculated. The diving wyvern was the immediate threat to the civilians. The flanker was hers.

“TOMAS! GET THEM INTO THE GRANARY NOW!” she bellowed, not taking her eyes off the sky.

As Tomas renewed his efforts, she focused. The flanking wyvern was almost on her, a mass of scales, teeth, and rending talons. At the last possible second, she activated a micro-burst from her left hip thruster. It wasn’t the graceful, powerful dash from before. It was a jerky, desperate lunge that carried her three yards to the right. Not enough.

A searing line of fire scored across her right shoulder and upper arm as one claw grazed her. The tactical shirt offered no protection. It split like paper, and warmth—immediate, shocking warmth—blossomed against the cold. Blood.

[SYSTEM ALERT: LACERATION DETECTED. RIGHT DELTOID. MINOR BLEEDING.]

Noted. She ignored the alert, ignored the pain, turning the clumsy evasion into momentum. She hit the ground rolling, came up on one knee, and raised her "Stinger" mana rifle. The wyvern was pulling out of its dive, presenting its leathery underbelly.

She fired.

CRACK-THOOOOOM!

The blue bolt of concentrated mana punched through scale and flesh. The creature screamed, a wet, gurgling sound, and veered away, crashing into the side of a wooden shed in a heap of splinters and twitching limbs.

One left.

But the cost registered. Her right arm was screaming. Lifting the Stinger for a second shot sent a white-hot spike of agony from shoulder to fingertip. Her grip faltered.

FUCK. WAS THE WOUND TOO DEEP?

The final wyvern, the largest, finished its climb and dove. Its target wasn’t her. It was the cluster of people now bottlenecked at the granary door. Tomas was there, shoving the last few inside.

No.

Her MP was low. Her body was battered, bleeding, and freezing. The cold was no longer just data; it was a creeping lethargy seeping into her bones, slowing her thoughts.

She had one shot. Not with the rifle. Her arm wouldn’t hold it steady.

She had the harness.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she forced herself to stand. She looked at the diving wyvern, then at the stone bell tower of the old temple, rising to the left of the granary.

It was a stupid, reckless, physics-defying gamble.

[ADMIN A: LIA! YOUR CORE TEMPERATURE IS DROPPING FASTER THAN YOUR MP! THIS IS A BAD TRADE!]

I know! she shot back. I’m open to better ideas!

[ADMIN A: I’M AN ADMIN, NOT A MIRACLE WORKER! FINE! OVERRIDING SAFETIES ON THE HARNESS. DON’T YOU DARE TEAR YOUR OWN ARM OFF.]

She ran toward the tower, not away from the wyvern. Every footfall jolted fire through her injured shoulder. With a guttural cry that was part pain, part fury, she commanded the harness to give her everything it had left.

FWOOSH—CRACK!

The mana jets from her back and legs fired in unison. The vertical lift was brutal, slamming her into the air faster than her battered body was ready for. Something in her already-strained abdomen pulled sharply. She didn’t have the strength for a controlled flight. This was a ballistic launch.

She shot upwards, a dark projectile against the grey sky. Not at the wyvern. At the bell tower.

Her left hand shot out as she rocketed past the stone ledge. A blue mana-tether spat from her wrist emitter, hooking around a gargoyle. The line went taut.

The sudden, wrenching change in trajectory was agony. It felt like her arm was being torn from its socket. A cry was ripped from her throat, lost in the wind and the wyvern’s shriek.

But it worked.

She became a pendulum of pain and momentum, swinging in a wide, terrifying arc around the tower. The wyvern, committed to its dive, couldn’t adjust in time.

Lia swung into its path, not in front of its acid maw, but alongside its neck. As she hurtled past, she dropped the tether.

For a second, she was falling beside the monstrous creature, eye-to-eye with a slitted pupil full of primordial hunger.

Her good left hand flashed to her thigh, drawing the combat knife she’d barely used. Not a mana weapon. Just sharp, hardened steel.

With the last of her strength, she drove the blade deep into the base of the wyvern’s skull, right where the scales met the softer tissue of its spine.

She held on as the creature convulsed, its dive turning into a death spiral. Then she let go, pushing away from the falling beast.

The ground rushed up to meet her. She had no MP left for a cushioned landing. No strength to tuck and roll.

[ADMIN A: BRACE, YOU IDIOT!]

She hit the snow-covered cobblestones of the square with a sickening, full-body impact that drove the air from her lungs. A sharp, final crack echoed in her ribs, a blunt announcement of a new injury. She lay there, gasping, staring at the grey sky, the cold of the stones seeping through her thin, torn clothes and into her very core.

Fuck… was I too weak? I just came back for Christ's sake…!

[SYSTEM ALERT: MULTIPLE CONTUSIONS. SUSPECTED FRACTURED RIB. HYPOTHERMIA IMMINENT. SHOCK PROTOCOLS RECOMMENDED.]

Silence. Then, the sound of Tomas’s boots crunching in the snow as he ran toward her.

“Your Grace! YOUR GRACE!”

Lia tried to move. A wave of nausea and blinding pain from her shoulder, her side, everywhere, forced her still. The world started to tunnel, the edges of her vision fading to grey, matching the sky.

Just… need a minute, she thought, her mind growing fuzzy.

[ADMIN A: YOU DON’T HAVE A MINUTE! STAY AWAKE, LIA!]

But it was hard. The cold was so heavy. The pain was a distant, throbbing thing. The last thing she was aware of was the faint, panicked hum of the System in her head, and the distant, growing sound of hoofbeats—not from one horse, but many—thundering toward the town square from the direction of the castle.

-TO BE CONTINUED-