The first Winter Wolf attacking Bartlett bypassed him from the side. Bartlett tried to block it, but the second and third ones were already right in front of him in a flash.
The second one leaped into the air, its sharp, knife-like teeth aiming for the barbarian's throat; the third one followed closely, ready to bite Bartlett's thigh down below; the fourth and fifth ones crouched on the perimeter, seemingly ready to join in at any moment. Their teamwork was extremely well-coordinated and their attacks were seamlessly connected, putting them on par with the best armies.
The lone wolf dies, the pack lives; this is how a wolf pack hunts.
The Winter Wolf pouncing in midair hadn't yet touched Bartlett when it suddenly spewed a burst of freezing gas at him. The barbarian adventurer crouched to dodge the gas attack and the ensuing pounce just in time. His newly grown stubble grazed the edge of the freezing gas, forming a layer of frost, but Bartlett didn't hesitate at all. With a horizontal swing of the "Fire Beauty," he faced the third one preparing to attack his lower body.
The third Winter Wolf avoided being slashed down by turning its body to the side, but it was still injured by the sharp sword. The fire from the sword ignited the wolf's thick fur, inflicting severe damage upon this cold-resistant creature that greatly fears fire. The unlucky wolf let out a miserable howl as it staggered back.
The fourth one immediately followed, with one attack wave after another without any break. This Winter Wolf paid no attention to its ignited comrade, instead directly charging Bartlett without giving him a chance to catch his breath. The fifth one came up to the "fire wolf" and spat out freezing gas, trying to put out the flames.
All this happened within the span of two heartbeats.
Bartlett used his right-handed shield to block the wolf's onslaught. His burly body only took a half-step back to stand firm. The claws of the wolf scratched several marks on the petrified cowhide armor, but they couldn't penetrate it. The scale-like petrified cowhide provided excellent defense.
Taking advantage of the situation, Bartlett thrust the "Fire Beauty" into the attacker's lower jaw. The sword pierced the top of the wolf's head, letting out a burnt meat scent into the air. The Winter Wolf only managed to emit half a cry before going silent.
This was the one with scars on its body; the barbarian recognized it.
Using his peripheral vision, Bartlett surveyed the area. The first and second Winter Wolves that had grazed him didn't return for another attack. Instead, Bartlett saw they were heading for Old Will. Evidently, the mage's earlier magic attack had left a deep impression on the wolf pack.
The wolf pack deemed the mage as a greater threat and decided to bypass Bartlett to attack the mage.
Bartlett knew that high-level mages weren't actually afraid of close-range attacks. They usually have several layers of different protective magics surrounding their bodies, effectively blocking various types of physical and magical attacks. But Old Will's robe didn't display any level, and Bartlett was hesitant to inquire further, making him worried for Old Will's safety.
The barbarian took another half-step back, pulling the "Fire Beauty" from the corpse. He used the rare chance to catch his breath and assessed the situation:
The half-elf held a uniquely shaped one-handed sword in each hand, neither of which burned with flames like Bartlett's Fire Beauty. Instead, the swords were red-hot as if they'd just been taken from a forge, emitting a hissing sound. The surrounding air was slightly distorted due to the terrifying heat.
Estelle had already felled five Winter Wolves, displaying impressive efficiency, although Old Will's assistance probably played a part. The ogre was surrounded by four Winter Wolves, but the beasts didn't blindly attack. It seemed they were unsure how to take on this fully armed iron fortress.
As for Old Will, he was now levitating in midair with a calm expression, watching the situation unfold. Three Winter Wolves circled beneath him, occasionally jumping but still beyond the mage's reach.
When Old Will saw Bartlett observing him, he waved and smiled at the barbarian.
If mages have any skills that ordinary people envy the most, it would be "Flying Skill." The Third Ring "Flying Skill" is considered a watershed for mages' self-defense, whereas the Third Ring "Fireball Skill" serves as their offensive watershed.
Bartlett heaved a sigh of relief. From now on, he wouldn't need to worry about the companions behind him (though there wasn't much he could do anyway, as two Winter Wolves had slipped through) and could fully focus on the battle in front of him.
Two more Winter Wolves advanced toward Bartlett from left and right. The barbarian drew a flying axe from his waist with his right hand, swung his arm, and threw it towards the attacker on his left. Confident in his skills, Bartlett didn't check if the flying axe hit its target and instead turned to face the Winter Wolf on his right.
Norde barbarians wield flying axes even more skillfully than a fork and knife at dinner, and Bartlett was one of the best since childhood.
The scream of pain that came from behind confirmed the success of the kill. Despite not considering himself bloodthirsty, Bartlett couldn't help but feel invigorated as life slipped from his hands.
The attacker in front of him didn't charge directly at Bartlett, instead stopping in its tracks and spewing a mouthful of freezing gas at him. The barbarian greatly despised magical attacks. He'd rather face an onslaught of lances and flying axes than the most basic of Magic Missiles.
The freezing gas formed a cone, attacking Bartlett. Its large area forced the latter to awkwardly roll around barely escaping. As Bartlett stood up, he noticed a faintly appearing and disappearing light curtain surrounding his body, Old Will's voice sounding in his ear.
"Now you don't have to worry about their 'bad breath'." Old Will spoke casually from behind him. "That magic shield can block four or five of their 'bad breath' attacks for you."
It couldn't be more timely! Bartlett sneered and took big steps towards the Winter Wolf that had just finished spitting out cold air, looking somewhat weakened. The latter seemed to be overwhelmed by the Barbarian's momentum, baring its teeth and growling while slowly retreating.
Switching from defense to attack, Bartlett rapidly rushed towards the opponent. After all, the Winter Wolf was a proud creature; it did not run away with its tail between its legs but roared and rushed forward to meet Bartlett head-on.
The contest between claws and a sharp sword ended in an instant - the sharp sword emerged victorious, and the claws were defeated. Bartlett slit the Winter Wolf's throat, and the flames on the sword charred a large portion of the fur around the wound.
The quality of this fur had decreased a lot, Bartlett frowned, which meant that the selling price would drop considerably.
After another round of loud howling, more Winter Wolves emerged from the dark forest, numbering around twenty or thirty. At least eighty percent of the adventurer teams in Pig Bay would be annihilated under such a quantity of Winter Wolves' attacks. The remaining teams, even if they could withstand the onslaught, would suffer at varying degrees of loss.
Winter Wolves' previous two probing attacks had proved unsuccessful, not causing any harm to Bartlett and his team. According to his understanding of these cunning creatures, the wolf pack should have retreated by now.
He didn't know what the alpha wolf was thinking. Given the Winter Wolves' intelligence, they shouldn't be choosing to take a bite of such a 'tough bone.'
Bartlett had some doubts in his mind, but reality did not allow him to think too much.
The wolf pack slowly arranged themselves into an arc, surrounding them, silent, showing their teeth, and crouching. Another howl came from deep within the forest, and nearly thirty Winter Wolves started to slowly close in on everyone.
Half-Elven and Ogre had already joined together, and Bartlett quickly came closer to them.
If it wasn't for the freeze gas-like magic attack, Bartlett believed he could deal with at least a dozen Winter Wolves, then jump onto a tree and wait for the wolf pack to leave. However, if he was truly surrounded, with no fir trees around for him to escape to, Bartlett believed that the Winter Wolves wouldn't choose a frontal assault. They would use attrition warfare tactics to slowly drain his stamina and then swarm and dismember him, devouring his flesh and bones.
"Duck down!!" On the run, Bartlett heard Old Will shout at him. Immediately following that, he saw a hot fireball with a long tail flame plunging towards a spot not far behind him.
What came next was a violent explosion and a wave of painful howls. The Barbarian felt a burning sensation on the back of his neck and was hit on his back several times by something. The explosion's shock wave toppled him onto the ground.
A Winter Wolf left the Ogre's surroundings and tried to attack Bartlett. He hurriedly got up, braced himself against the beast's cold air attack, and rammed his sharp sword into its throat.
At least this way wouldn't damage the fur, he thought.
Estelle swung his warhammer like swatting away flies, driving away the beasts and getting Bartlett inside the protective reach of his tower shield. Taking advantage of this breathing space, the Barbarian reached out to the back of his neck, removed a patch of charred flesh with fur still attached to it, and threw it on the ground.
"I did duck." He looked up at Old Will in the sky. "But it didn't do any good."
"Sorry." Old Will's voice came from above, his tone light, showing no signs of remorse. "You'll get used to it eventually. When I was studying at the Magic Association, I was never a top student..." he unabashedly revealed his dark past.
I don't want to get used to this kind of thing, Bartlett thought. Misusing magic could cost lives, including the mage's own.
"Hey, now's not the time to talk about this." The Half-Elven's voice came from the other side of the Ogre. "Look ahead!"
In the next moment, the distant wolf pack shot over like white arrows, giving Bartlett a feeling reminiscent of an avalanche.
...