He aimed high, his swords flashing for the wolf's neck.
It was a mistake.
The wolf twisted mid-leap, avoiding the slash. Its tail whipped out with terrifying speed.
CRACK!
The heavy tail smashed into Edwin's ribs, lifting him off his feet. He slammed back-first into a tree trunk with a bone-shaking thud.
A loud crack echoed—his body slumped against the bark, motionless.
"EDWIN!" Ronan roared, eyes wide with horror.
The strongest swordsman of the first years—down in an instant.
The mist grew heavier, filled with snarls, screams, and the iron stench of blood.
And then…
Mira writhed in the mud, clutching her mangled arm. Talia gasped beneath the crushing wolf, her body weakening. Edwin lay unconscious against the tree.
Only three stood now.
Ronan, blood pouring down his back.
Leo, pale and coughing blood, barely holding himself upright.
And Fenn, the dagger-user, breathing hard, his blades trembling in his hands.
Three against four Savage-rank Ironfangs.
