—Third-Person Perspective—
—Oak Shield Group—
Imagine a peaceful plain covered in lush green grass, dotted with various flowers and the occasional tree. A serene field where rabbits roam, deer graze, birds sing, and squirrels scamper freely—a true image of tranquility.
In this idyllic setting, two men dressed in red and gold-patterned armor lay sprawled across the grass. From a distance, one might have assumed they were simply resting peacefully. But a closer look would instantly shatter that illusion: one had blood trickling from his head and his arm twisted at an unnatural angle, while smoke rose from the other's groin area, foam bubbling from his mouth, blood dripping from his head, and his eyes turned completely white.
Markus was lucky—Gandalf's electric shock had also struck his horse, which had been forced to slow down abruptly. Thanks to that, Markus's fall was much softer compared to Anton's.
Now unconscious, Markus lay on the ground with foam dribbling from his lips. His horse approached slowly, nudging Markus's head with its nose. Markus didn't respond. The horse nudged again, still no reaction. It then began moving its lips gently across Markus's face.
Markus shuddered, then smacked his lips and murmured,
"Hmm… my lady… at last, you are with me…" He rolled over dreamily.
Still persistent, the horse continued its efforts and began licking Markus's neck. Markus giggled."Oh… my lady, your lips are so soft…" he mumbled and rolled over again, prompting the horse to poke his cheek.
Markus moaned again and grinned,
"Don't squirm, girl…"
he sighed as he lay flat on his back.
Slowly, he opened his eyes—only to find the face of his horse inches from his own, its lips pressing against his.
Frozen in place, Markus suddenly let out a shriek that echoed across the entire plain:
"KYAAAAA!"
He scrambled away from the horse, trembling, pointing at it with a shaky finger.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, YOU PERVERT?!"
The horse stared back blankly, thinking, 'Why is this idiot my partner?'
Markus saw the faint hint of judgment in his horse's eyes and shouted in rage,
"How dare you look at me like that?!"
He reached for his sword, only to realize—it was gone.
"What the hell?! Where am I?!" he cried out in confusion as he frantically scanned his surroundings.
The horse glanced back at its owner and sighed inwardly: Hopeless case. Then, it turned around and walked away, showing Markus its rear.
Oblivious to the insult, Markus stood seriously pondering where he was and what had happened. Looking east, he saw a group moving in the distance—too far, about 300 meters away, to recognize clearly. Then, turning westward, he spotted a red-haired woman with snow-white skin approaching on horseback.
He blinked, stunned by her beauty—then suddenly, a lightbulb went off in his mind. Rage surged through him.
"THAT DAMN OLD MAN! I'LL GET MY REVENGE!"
His furious cry echoed across the plain. Then, his nose twitched.
"Mmm… what's that smell? Who's cooking meat?" he muttered, sniffing the air.
He looked around in confusion—only to realize the delicious smell was coming from himself. He looked down.
And then screamed.
Falling face-first to the ground, Markus began writhing and rolling. His groin was on fire—literally. After patting the flames out, he started fanning the area desperately with both hands.
Katarina, who had been approaching from a distance, twitched her brow at the sight.
'What is this idiot doing? Where the hell is Anton?'
She looked around in frustration—until she spotted Anton lying motionless on the ground. Her eyes widened, and she immediately spurred her horse forward.
Reaching his side, Katarina dismounted swiftly and activated her vampire vision to examine him. Seeing that he was alive, though with several broken bones, she sighed in relief.
Katarina and Anton shared a complicated relationship—sometimes they acted like lovers, other times like siblings. Anton was the one person with whom Katarina felt truly at ease. She trusted him, even confided in him. For over 160 years, Anton had stayed by her side.
Katarina wanted to turn him into a vampire, but Anton remained hesitant. He was someone who valued honor and integrity deeply—so much so that, over time, his service to Katarina had slowly eroded those very values. He had done many things that stained both his pride and his sense of justice.
Kneeling beside him, Katarina gently caressed his cheek.
"Anton," she whispered.
He didn't respond.
Leaning in closer, she raised her voice.
"ANTON."
Still nothing.
Sighing, Katarina turned her gaze eastward, focusing her vampire-enhanced sight on the distant group.
"So that's how you want to play it, my sweet darling," she said softly, conjuring a red orb of mana in her hand.
She raised it—not toward the fleeing group, but to the sky.
POOF.
A few seconds later, the red orb exploded like a firework, painting the sky in a crimson hue that stretched for two kilometers.
After watching it for a moment, Katarina turned back to Anton and the healer tending to him.
"How is he?"
Katarina always kept a male healer in her collection—strong and reliable enough to keep her prized knights in top condition. Vampires could heal wounds, yes, but most chose not to. Their mindset was simple: Why waste valuable mana and energy healing my blood bags? I'll just get new ones.
Katarina knew healing magic—not the conventional kind, but the vampiric kind, which required the use of blood. This drained her immensely, especially during midday. By nature, vampires were extremely incompatible with such types of magic. To resolve this issue, she had found a healer.
The healer, his hands glowing with a green energy, spoke calmly.
"Do not worry, my Lady. His condition is stable, but one of his legs and one of his arms are fractured in several places. He also has hairline cracks throughout his body, though none are serious. Still, he won't be swinging a sword for quite some time. I need to brew a potion using healing herbs—it'll take me at most an hour."
Katarina nodded and turned to her men.
"Eradir, you and your team will stay here and protect Anton. The rest will come with me."
"Understood, my Lady!" Eradir replied at once.
At that moment, Markus arrived, saluted his lady, and quickly rushed to the healer. Those who saw his panicked state were surprised, but the men who noticed the charred region between his legs recoiled violently.
Markus grabbed the healer by the shoulders and shouted in panic,
"Lepol! Please treat me! My children are in danger!" He then dropped to the ground.
Lepol stared at Markus blankly and sighed. Then, glancing at the injured region, he muttered bitterly,
'I should never have become a healer. Why am I staring at a man's private parts? Couldn't it at least have been a woman?'
Grumbling, he extended his hand toward the area Markus had scorched. A green energy shimmered in his palm. A few seconds passed before Lepol's eyes widened in surprise—then he composed himself and sighed again.
"Markus… what happened here?"
"That despicable, honorless, ****, ******* gray wizard struck me with lightning!" Markus growled through clenched teeth, veins bulging across his face in fury. Then he looked at Lepol.
"Lepol, give it to me straight—what's my condition?"
"…I'm sorry, Markus. Little Markus is no longer operational. You can still relieve yourself, but children? That's out of the question. The mana used burned away specific tissues entirely."
A wave of silence passed through the knights. They shivered and swallowed hard. Katarina held her head in her hand, overwhelmed by a sudden migraine. Markus blinked rapidly for a few seconds, staring blankly—then screamed:
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
His cry echoed across the plains. The knights' horses reared up in fright. Birds nearby scattered in panic.
Lepol turned his attention back to Anton. Katarina addressed her soldiers again.
"We're leaving. Markus, stay here with Eradir."
Then she mounted her horse and rode eastward with her men.
"No. No. No! How can this happen? Why did this happen to me?!" Markus was still in shock, murmuring in disbelief.
Though none of his comrades particularly liked him, no man would wish this fate on another. Eradir stepped forward and placed a hand on Markus's shoulder.
"Calm down, Markus. Lepol just told you the state of things. He never said he couldn't heal you."
Markus lifted his head, looking at Eradir, then turned to Lepol with desperate, tear-filled eyes.
"LEPOOOL! CAN YOU HEAL ME?!" he shouted in anguish.
Startled, Lepol looked over his shoulder, sighed, and replied,
"I can… but I'll need high-quality ingredients."
Hearing this, Markus lunged at Lepol and hugged him tightly, rubbing his cheek against the healer's. Tears streamed down his face.
"Thank you! You're the hero of me and my future children! I owe you everything! Uhhuhhuhhh… Lepooool."
Lepol shuddered violently, pushing Markus's head away in panic.
"Get off me, you lunatic! Someone get this guy off me!"
The surrounding knights burst into laughter. But then Markus suddenly froze, his eyes narrowing. He shot to his feet and scanned the surroundings with a serious expression. The knights immediately fell silent and stood on alert.
Seeing Markus's demeanor, Eradir asked seriously,
"Did you sense something?"
Markus looked around carefully.
"I'm not sure… but something's off! Get the men on their horses. Stay on alert. Lepol, brew that potion—Anton needs to wake up."
Markus was a kind of seer. He could sense approaching dangers, especially those directed at himself or his allies. It was one of his innate abilities. He was also a master strategist and a natural-born leader—though he had a terrible personality.
Eradir, seeing how serious Markus was, nodded and raised his guard. He didn't like Markus, but he acknowledged his talent. Lepol quickly set to work.
Meanwhile, as the Oak Shield group pressed forward, they spotted the burst of red mana in the sky. Igris and Thorin exchanged looks.
"It's starting," said Igris as he picked up a cloth. Dipping it in water, he began to wipe his face.
"Let them come," Thorin said, taking the cloth from Igris. "We'll show them some proper dwarven hospitality."
The chicken was tasty—but greasy. You needed a firm grip when swinging a sword in battle.
Igris nodded, then turned to Gandalf.
"How's your mana?"
"I've recovered a bit," the wizard replied, "but it still won't be enough, I fear."
Igris sighed and looked at the state of his injured arm.
'No. There's no way I can use this arm. If it ends up permanently damaged, that'll be a real problem. I hope reinforcements arrive soon.'
As he pondered this, he felt a tingling sensation in his left shoulder. The numbness had been there since the ambush, faint but persistent, and he had ignored it. Now it was intensifying—becoming painful. Igris began to find it troubling. Closing his eyes to sense his body, his eyes suddenly shot open in shock.
Internally, he began swearing in fury.
"Elise! That ***** woman! You ***** and ****!"
Igris had been poisoned! Elise, during their last battle, had coated her blade with poison. Before dying, she had managed to strike Igris with a brutal blow. Her sword had sunk halfway into his shoulder.
"Wonderful. Just perfect. This had to happen now, of all times. No matter the world, the most dangerous beings are always women! They're cunning, sharp, and if they're beautiful—triple threat! One's dead, but not only did she cripple me, she poisoned me! Another one's obsessed and chasing after me! In my previous life, I didn't even try to get a girlfriend—I never even got close to women! Why is it that in this life, women are torturing me?"
Igris kept walking without changing his expression—he didn't want to stir trouble or cause distraction. The enemies behind them were already here for him. No need to drag his group into yet another mess. He began focusing his aura to isolate the poison in one spot.
Shadowmane sensed the abnormality in his partner.
"What's wrong? Why are you channeling your aura to your left shoulder and forming a barrier there?"
Without breaking stride, Igris traced words with his finger on Shadowmane's back. The horse froze in surprise and neighed sharply.
"Poison?!"
Igris confirmed silently.
"Oh, great! So what the hell are we supposed to do now?"
Igris continued writing with his finger.
"Everything is under control. Trust me."
Shadowmane neighed in frustration.
"That's EXACTLY why I'm terrified!"
Igris wrote with a hint of wounded pride.
"When have I ever let you down?"
"Oh, where do I even begin? Was it that time we went treasure-hunting in the troll den and ended up facing twenty trolls? Or that time we followed a small group of goblins to rescue some enslaved women and instead stumbled into an entire goblin city and barely escaped with our lives? What about that so-called 'rescue mission' you and Guno pulled that ended with us jumping off a cliff? Or that pirate hunt where we almost fought an entire fleet? Or the time we went after a handful of bandits with ten dwarves and it turned into a full-scale orc tribe raid? Or when we went deer hunting and ran into a damned ogre? I was bedridden for four months because of that ogre! Oh! And what about the insane tribe of warrior women? And then there was the tomb that turned out to house a Lich! Not to mention our 'peaceful hike' where we ran into a Behemoth. Don't even get me started on that giant black serpent... Wait a minute! How the hell am I even still alive?!"
As Shadowmane began questioning his entire past, Igris' eye twitched.
He wrote:"Those were just bad luck! How is any of that my fault?"
"YOU TRAUMATIZED GUNO SO BADLY THAT HE STARTED FEARING MOUNTAINS! A DWARF! AFRAID OF MOUNTAINS! I HEARD HE HAD NIGHTMARES ABOUT FALLING OFF THAT CLIFF FOR FOUR MONTHS AFTER YOU TWO JUMPED! AND IF YOU WERE GOING TO LEAP OFF A CLIFF, WHY DRAG ME ALONG TOO?! I'M A FIREMANE, NOT A PEGASUS!" Shadowmane snorted furiously, thick smoke puffing from his nostrils.
Igris scribbled with an irritated flick of his finger.
"You're exaggerating! I'm innocent! How was I supposed to know a dwarf who lives in the mountains had a fear of heights?"
"Is everything alright? Your horse has been neighing non-stop for the past ten minutes," Gandalf asked, concerned.
After a pause, Igris responded,"He's just recounting our past adventures… and complaining about the enemies behind us. Oh, and he's also whining about running non-stop for nine hours. Now he's starting to question the meaning of life. I think my horse is on the path to becoming a philosopher… or maybe a hoofosopher, to be precise."
Gandalf stared deeply at Igris, who tensed slightly under his gaze—until the old wizard chuckled.
"Talking with animals can be quite amusing. They can tell you the most unexpected things. Sometimes, they even offer valuable insight. My friend Radagast the Brown lives in the eastern woods, spending his days surrounded by animals and nature. Every time I meet him, he tells me some wild story about the animal kingdom. Unfortunately, I'm not exactly fluent in beast-tongue—but I can hold my own." He finished with a wink and pulled out a small bottle, handing it to Igris.
"This should help keep things at bay for a while. When we stop, I'll take a closer look at your condition."
Igris looked at the bottle in his hand and nodded.
"Thanks, Gandalf."
"It's no big deal, but someday you have to tell me about that adventure with Guno. I'm really curious about what kind of mission could terrify a dwarf to the point of fearing mountains," Gandalf said with interest.
Igris chuckled and nodded, causing the nearby dwarves to glance at him in surprise. Meanwhile, on the left flank, Gilan and Kili had drawn arrows and were eyeing the approaching Blood Rose Knights.
"They're coming. Should we shoot?"
"Wait. Let them get a little closer."
When the Blood Knights were about sixty meters away, Gilan gave the signal.
"Take good aim, Kili. We're low on arrows," he warned as he drew and loosed his first shot.
Fwoooo—THWACK!AAAAAAAHHHHHH!
One Blood Rose Knight was struck directly in the eye and collapsed.AGH!UGH!THUD!
Without losing a second, Gilan fired three more arrows—one hit a knight in the throat, the second lodged in another's shoulder, and the third was deflected by a raised shield. The Blood Rose Knights, for the first time since facing Greenleaf, were once again experiencing the terror of a skilled ranger. They halted their advance, adjusted formation, and raised their shields while moving laterally.
Kili watched in awe."Focus, Kili!""Got it," he replied quickly.
Gilan sighed, then looked at the enemy group, and then back at his own. He made a decision.
"I didn't want to do this, but it's necessary," he murmured sadly.
Kili didn't understand and looked confused, but Gilan's horse did. Despite its unease, the mount kept galloping forward.
"I'm sorry," Gilan whispered, releasing two arrows.
Hiiiiii!
Kiiihiiii!
The arrows struck the horses of two Blood Knights leading the charge—one in the eye, the other in the throat. The beasts toppled, and the knights behind them crashed into the fallen animals and tumbled to the ground. Gilan felt regret; he didn't like targeting horses in battle. His own horse was his best companion, and he empathized. But Kili didn't share that concern.
"Nice shooting, Gilan! They haven't even gotten close and you've already taken out six!"
"I don't like killing horses," Gilan muttered glumly.
Kili shrugged, surprised.
"It's either them or us."
"I know that. I get it. But that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it."
Meanwhile, the remaining Blood Rose Knights resumed their charge, this time with more determination. Gilan and Kili released calculated shots. Kili's arrows were erratic and mostly struck shields. By the time he loosed his seventh arrow, he stopped firing. Gilan, however, remained precise—he shot four horses in the eye, felling them instantly, and wounded two more knights in the knee. Still, the enemy continued to advance.
"Gilan! Kili! We're here to help!" shouted Bofur.
Bofur and Fili galloped up to reinforce them.
"Perfect!" Kili shouted in excitement.
"Gilan, Igris told us to gradually fall back to the center group. Reinforcements could join us at any moment."
"Understood!"
On the right flank, Halt and Bilbo were also shooting arrows at the incoming knights. Like Gilan, Halt waited until they were within 80 meters before releasing his first shot. He downed eight knights in swift succession. Bilbo managed to land one lucky hit, dropping a knight, but missed the other nine.
At that moment, Gloin and Dwalin arrived and conveyed the same strategy as Fili had. Just as they were about to move, another group of horsemen approached swiftly from behind the Blood Knights. The Khuzait tribal warriors drew and loosed their bows. Fifteen arrows soared toward the backs of the knights. Three struck necks and dropped their targets instantly. Two hit armor but failed to penetrate. One struck a horse's leg. The rest missed.
The Blood Rose Knights turned in alarm.
"HORSEBACK ARCHERS!" one of them shouted.
"WATCH THE REAR!" another bellowed, just as he noticed five more horsemen flanking from the left. He raised his shield just in time to block a massive strike from a Vaegir veteran wielding a double-handed battle axe.
THUD!
"So, you're the ones who dare oppose Igris—the man destined to be our new king," the Vaegir veteran said coldly.
The knight was stunned. King? He tried to speak, but had to raise his shield again to block a second crushing blow.
THUD!
The impact numbed his arm. He tried a horizontal slash in response, but the Vaegir blocked it with the shaft of his axe, then yanked it inward with brute force, knocking the knight's sword back. The knight stumbled, barely regaining his footing before taking a punch to the chin that sent him flying off his horse. He rolled several times before coming to a halt.
"HAHAHA! REINFORCEMENTS HAVE ARRIVED!" Gloin roared.
"Let's go help them!" Dwalin shouted, charging in that direction. Gloin followed without hesitation.
"Bilbo! Go inform the others that reinforcements have arrived on the right flank!" Halt ordered as he nocked another arrow and fired.
Bilbo nodded and sprinted off.
Meanwhile, Katarina and her knights finally caught up with Igris's group. Thorin glanced at her, then whistled, grinning as he turned to Igris.
"Beautiful woman. Once again, I offer to arrange your wedding."
"I could be your witness," Gandalf added with a chuckle.
Igris twitched. His voice rose in anger."Shut up, both of you! ******! If you bring this up again, you'll wake up one morning completely bald!"
Meanwhile, Dori was staring dreamily at the approaching beauty behind them.
"Ahhh… Durin's eyes and beard, that woman is stunning," he sighed. Bombur and Ori, equally entranced, nodded in agreement.
"Her skin is so white… just like the moon and stars in the sky," Ori murmured.
Bombur nodded. "Yeah, but I think it's more like goat's milk—absolutely appetizing!"
"You're always thinking about food, Bombur!" Balin complained, then added, "Let me remind you—the woman you're calling beautiful is a vampire! She won't kiss your neck—she'll drain every last drop of your blood! You'll be a mummy in five minutes!"
The trio shuddered.
Igris nodded toward Balin in approval. "You're my favorite old dwarf, Balin. As always, you speak the truth—especially compared to the two traitors standing next to me!" he said, glaring at Gandalf and Thorin.
Thorin kept staring ahead as if the conversation had nothing to do with him, while Gandalf puffed on his pipe in silent contemplation.
"Did you say something, Igris?" Gandalf asked.
Igris's eyebrow twitched.
"I'm not making dinner tonight! You're on your own!" he shouted angrily. The two of them were stunned.
"That's not fair! I didn't do anything!" they both protested in unison.
Just as Igris was about to respond, Katarina's voice rang out.
"Sweetheart!"
Igris shivered and turned around. Katarina was much closer now—barely twenty meters away.
'I think I'm starting to miss death. Then again, I've never really feared it anyway...'
"Sweetheart? Really? Isn't it a little inappropriate, grandma? Flirting with a man waaaay younger than you?" he mocked. "I mean, I'm in my twenties, and you're what... over 500?" he added, flipping her the middle finger.
The Blood Rose knights fumed while the Oakshield group burst into laughter.
Katarina's eyebrow twitched violently at the words "grandma" and "500 years old," but she kept her smile intact as she looked at Igris.
"Darling! Your new armor is gorgeous! It fits you so well. But red would suit you much better. Come with me, and I'll have a stronger, more beautiful set crafted just for you!"
"Oh, really? Well, I'm traveling with the King of the Dwarves, and he promised me a full set of armor made from black or silver Mithril. And it's free!" he replied smugly.
Thorin almost had a heart attack.
'WHEN DID I EVER PROMISE THAT, YOU LITTLE—?! DO YOU EVEN KNOW THE VALUE OF MITHRIL?! AND HE'S TALKING ABOUT RARE VARIANTS! I'VE NEVER EVEN SEEN THOSE IN MY LIFE, DAMMIT!'
Katarina looked stunned, then cast an icy glare at Thorin.
'You're not even a king yet—you're a king in exile! And you dare try to seduce my man? We'll be settling this, Thorin Oakenshield,' she thought furiously.
Thorin met her freezing gaze and involuntarily shivered.
Igris went on.
"Besides, the Grey Wizard Gandalf spoke directly to LADY GALADRIEL to inscribe runes on my armor and weapon! Can you beat that, grandma?" he sneered.
Gandalf choked on his pipe smoke.
'I NEVER PROMISED THAT! WHY ARE YOU DRAGGING ME INTO THIS?! ...Though, it's not entirely impossible. After all, I did teach Galadriel how to write runes... If I wasn't trapped in this human body and so weakened, things would be different. Igris has potential. I might be able to use this to recruit him for future missions.'
Katarina's murderous intent faded the moment Galadriel's name was mentioned. Everyone around them nearly choked. Only Gandalf, Thorin, Igris, and Balin remained calm. However, Katarina had completely misunderstood.
'THAT ****** ELF ******! HOW DARE SHE LAY EYES ON MY MAN!?'
A woman's mind is truly the most complex structure in the world—no, in the universe.
Meanwhile, Markus sat in a meditative position, trying to conjure images. The ominous atmosphere had been making him uncomfortable for a while now. He had been focusing for twenty minutes, and finally, something started to appear.
Markus was standing in a dark forest, glancing around, trying to understand what was happening. Then, he saw two ominous crimson eyes. He swallowed nervously—but it wasn't over yet. Another pair of red eyes appeared... then blue... then yellow. Twenty eyes in total stared at him. Markus trembled with fear, especially as he gazed into the twin red ones.
At the same time, twenty shadows raced from the west toward the Blood Knights. The group halted, and their leader sniffed the air.
"That foul vampire is near."
The leader was a wolf the size of a horse, with shining brown fur, red eyes, sharp fangs, and a majestic, noble aura. Beside him stood a tall, muscular, and charismatic werewolf walking upright, covered in white fur. He sniffed the air and froze in disbelief.
"IGRIS! THIS IS IGRIS'S SCENT!" he howled in excitement.
"You sure, Kaelan?" asked another werewolf.
"I'm sure! I could never mistake the scent of my blood brother! Darling, do you smell it too?"
The group's alpha, Lyrra, sniffed the air again. Her mouth watered as she grinned with delight.
"Yes! That's Igris's spicy chicken leg! I'd know it anywhere!"
Kaelan growled in rage. "That **** vampire! As if injuring my sister wasn't enough, now she's after my sworn brother too!? That **** woman will die!"
Lyrra was equally furious. Her sister-in-law was young, practically a little sister to her. But during a hunt, she had run into Katarina and been grievously wounded. If Katarina had known that the girl she injured was the youngest daughter of the Grand Alpha and Chieftain of the Werewolves, perhaps she would have thought twice. That wound had sparked a war between the vampires and werewolves. One thing was certain—if her father, Elaris von Crimsonvale, found out, he would erupt in fury.
"Hurry!" Lyrra ordered. "Igris can't take on a vampire in his current condition!"
The pack of wolves sped forward, leaving behind only a rustling of leaves in their wake.
Markus snapped out of his trance with a gasp, drenched in panic.
"PREPARE IMMEDIATELY! WE'RE HEADING TO MY LADY! WE HAVE TO ESCAPE!" he shouted.
The knights stared at him in confusion. Eradir walked up with a serious look.
"What did you see?"
"WOLVES! TWO ALPHAS! A PACK OF TWENTY IS COMING AFTER US! THERE WERE BLUE-EYED ONES AMONG THEM!"
The Blood Rose knights froze in shock. Lepol stood motionless, still holding a vial. Eradir gave the order instantly.
"Gather up! We have to inform our lady!"
"Anton's still unconscious! We can't move like this!"
Markus turned to Lepol."Is the potion ready?"
"No! I'm working as fast as I can, but I need at least forty more minutes!"
"Do you have anything that can stabilize his wounds temporarily?"
"I do! But why—?"
Markus suddenly rushed to Anton and began slapping him across the face. Everyone was stunned.
"STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"
"MARKUS! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!"
But Markus ignored them and kept slapping.
"Wake up, Anton! We've got hell on our heels!"
Anton groaned, but didn't wake. Markus stopped, furious, then lifted Anton onto his back.
"Let's go! I'll carry him. If we stay here, we die! Fighting a pack of twenty pure-blooded wolves in this condition is suicide!"
After a moment of hesitation, the Blood Rose knights mounted their horses quickly. Markus secured Anton onto his back.
"You owe me, old man," he muttered.
And thus, the Blood Rose knights—once hunters—became the prey of furious wolves.