The snow wolves approach with terrifying coordination from all sides. The large golems are firing ice bolts at them. Joe and I are shooting arrows. The bats circle overhead, ready to dive if any wolf manages to jump the barricade. The heavy snow impacts my accuracy. I hit a couple more wolves but without explosions, and though wounded, they keep coming.

Maybe I should've aimed for legs, but I'm not that skilled yet. I'd miss. Presumably my bow mastery will improve both range and accuracy.

From the corner of my eye, I see Tom and Bob moving toward our right flank, which is currently the most vulnerable. Ronan's spell takes effect, and the wolves slow down.

I release the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. This isn't a game—it's real—and those few seconds when the wolves nearly reached us were terrifying. Some have already arrived and are perfectly capable of jumping over the wall. Tom and Bob stop them mid-leap and throw them back. Both shield and spear seem perfectly suited for this.

Maybe I should've made the wall taller with firing ports. But I'm not sure that would have been right, as it would have rendered our melee fighters inactive. Though the large golems could still have fired their bolts, and Bob could have stuck his spear through gaps... I don't know.

Three approaching wolves snap me from my thoughts. Good thing they're not as fast anymore. I fire. My arrow, its fire aura vividly contrasting the white landscape, sinks into the lead wolf's neck. Whoa, that has to be a critical hit! Then I see it explode moments after impact. The creature, with a hole larger than a fist in its flesh, dies instantly. Its body, with the momentum of its charge, slides through the snow until it crashes into the wall, impaling itself on the spikes. I drop my bow and draw my sword as the other two wolves leap and lunge at me. The golems in front levitate and smash into them with their magically-reinforced ice bodies, preventing the enemies from pouncing on me. They follow up with point-blank ice shard spells while bats dive-bomb from above.

Okay. Clearly Ronan gave precise orders.

I simply finish off the sole survivor with my sword.

We continue like this, now engaged in close combat to prevent them from getting to our side of the wall. Ronan uses both a kind of dark flame and his drain spell. His exhaust must have worn off—strange, since the enemies are moving fast.

In front of me, on the other side of the wall, five wolf corpses litter the ground, creating platforms for new attackers who no longer need to jump to reach us.

A long, deep howl suddenly echoes through this part of the forest. The remaining wolves pause momentarily, as if receiving new orders. Then they change tactics, circling at a safe distance instead of attacking directly.

"They are regrouping," Ronan warns. "The alpha is commanding them. My lady, remember it has a howl that buffs the pack."

"Yes. Can you spot the alpha?" I ask, scanning the wolves.

"That one," he points toward the trees.

I squint and see it: a significantly larger wolf with visible scars on its muzzle that stand out like dark lines on its white fur. Its eyes aren't blue like those of its pack, but an intense yellow that gleams with predatory intelligence.

Snow Wolf Alpha, level 7.

The level reading surprises me. It's more powerful than I expected. The other wolves are only level 4 or 5.

"We need to eliminate the alpha," I say, bending down to pick up my bow from the ground and then nocking an arrow.

The alpha seems to sense my intention and partially conceals itself behind a tree, leaving only part of its body visible. It's too smart to expose itself.

The pack, meanwhile, has adopted a new tactic. They move constantly, zigzagging to make my aim difficult, waiting until my arm tires or my quiver empties.

The three-minute fire channeling has expired, and I wait before renewing it.

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"I think it is time to reinforce our little army," Ronan tells me, and begins chanting one of his spells.

Soon, three of the wolf corpses surrounding us come to life, not as zombies but as skeletons. The sight of bones breaking through their bloody flesh is, at minimum, disturbing. I quickly look away before nausea hits.

This isn't a game. It's a real world. Raising skeletons from fresh corpses isn't a finger-snap that makes flesh, viscera, and blood disappear.

As Ronan begins raising three more skeleton wolves, the first three charge the alpha. It reacts violently, bursting from cover to seize one by the neck vertebrae, as if enraged by this desecration of its pack's corpses. Despite being bone against teeth, the alpha's powerful jaws snap the spine, instantly destroying the undead. The other skeleton wolves engage the pack.

Meanwhile, I draw my bowstring taut, pouring full concentration into this shot. The arrow flies with a whistle that I cannot hear because of the snow storm. It's unfortunate I must conserve my mana, as this one carries no fire. It's just a normal arrow dealing 1 physical damage plus my sword's +1, nothing like the +6 I achieve when channeling.

The alpha notices at the last second and tries to dodge, but it's too late. The arrow strikes forcefully... then shatters against its flank without penetrating. The creature snarls. I think it feared another explosive arrow like those that killed its pack. This one probably didn't even scratch it.

I move my hand toward the quiver to apply fire channeling when the alpha does something unexpected. It lifts its snout toward the cavern ceiling and lets out a howl. Up to this point, everything's normal because I know it can buff its wolves. However, unlike before, this one is sharper and more prolonged. Now I don't know if it's coincidence or a spell not recorded in the guide, but the snowfall intensifies, becoming a furious blizzard that reduces our visibility to about one meter.

Uh, no thanks. I withdraw my hand before applying channeling. Now there's no way anyone can shoot.

I put away my bow.

"Can it control the weather?" I shout, surprised.

The truth is I can barely hear myself.

It should not be able to, Ronan answers in my mind, presumably because of the blizzard noise.

Well, whether it's coincidence or an unregistered spell, we need to do something.

Suddenly, within my limited field of vision, a white blur preceded by the blue reflection of its eyes lunges at me, and fangs snap toward my face. Instinctively, I take a couple steps back and draw my sword in one fluid motion. The blade connects with the wolf mid-leap when it's almost on top of me. I think I barely manage to pierce its thick hide. It's definitely not exhausted. Either Ronan's spell ended before the 5 minutes he told me it would last, or the boss removed it from its pack with one of its two howls.

The wolf lands in front of me and tenses, ready to attack. Before I can position myself properly with the sword—in a stance that would let me both counterattack and defend—I feel a sharp pain in my left leg. Another wolf has managed to get close, jump over the wall taking advantage of the blizzard's cover, and sink its fangs into my calf. The cold from its teeth spreads like poison through my leg, numbing the muscles.

Bianca! Ronan's voice sounds alarmed in my head.

How the hell did this guy notice anything when it's just wind and snow and you can't see a damn thing?

Well, he's just over a meter away. Maybe after spending so much time locked in the basement, either in darkness or with barely any light, he's developed pretty good night vision.

I certainly don't have time to answer him. With a grunt of effort, I drive my sword into the head of the wolf biting me.

Drive it in? More like attempt to. Because I could have gone for an eye or something soft. But no, I went for the skull bone, plus these wolves' tough hide that seems even tougher with the alpha's buff. Then, while murmuring the fire channeling spell for my sword, someone hits me and knocks me to the ground. The wolf, not expecting the sudden movement, loosens its jaw and my leg, though torn, comes free.

It's Tom, with his shield, who charged into me. His body knocked me down while his shield blocked the wolf that was about to lunge at my unprotected neck while I was stupidly focused on trying to pierce its companion's skull with my sword.

Blessed Tom. I have to tell Ronan to give him a day off or something.

I get to my feet and finish igniting my sword with flames that practically only I can see. I think the pup tried to prevent the wolf from attacking me but failed to draw its aggro. Two of the small golems have rolled toward the other wolf, the one that bit me, and are fighting it. I bend down and give it a good slash with my sword. This time I cut through its defenses effortlessly, slicing hide, flesh and muscle along its flank. The golems finish it off with their ice shards and I quickly scan what little I can see. Tom is dealing with his wolf, Bob and Ronan are nearby, also fighting. Joe keeps shooting despite the blizzard. His high-level bow mastery really shows. I don't see any wolves coming toward me, so I stab my sword into the ground and lean on it. I lift my leg and quickly assess the wound. The fangs penetrated my boot leather and reached the flesh. The holes aren't very deep but when Tom pushed me, it created grooves in my leg and tore chunks from the boot leather. The good news is it doesn't hurt, presumably because the unnatural cold from the bite numbed the area. The bad news is I can see the white color of the frostbitten area. I don't even dare to pull down my boot. Black would be bad—that would mean I've already lost the leg. From what I remember from Earth, white is worse than red but not as bad as blue or purple. Maybe, if it's superficial frostbite, I can heal it.

But now is not the time.

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