Walker let out a large sigh after he had gotten a little distance from the great tundra wolf pack. He felt that the pack had not given him an inch to maneuver. If he had set a single toe out of line he would have needed to fight every single one of them then and there.
Even worse, he even felt that if he tried to use ice magic at all, that the fenrir wolf would have had a better use of the ice than he would have had. Just proving more than anything that he was not a master of a single form of mana or magic. He was able to use it all and mix it for better results, but one type?
No, he would find himself lacking compared to a monster stepping on the final stretch of a path that would make it a recognized race. Let alone one that had awakened a bloodline from an ancient monster known for having the best of the best in terms of ice manipulation and basic brutal fighting styles.
