Chapter 4: Into the Fray

Chapter 4: Into the Fray

The carriage had barely come to a full stop before he was already moving.

"Stay here," he ordered, shoving the door open and stepping out.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the heavy sword resting beside her, the weight of it as cumbersome as ever. "Like hell I'm staying put."

As she stepped out, the scene ahead unfolded. A group of adventurers was locked in combat with a horde of monsters—mostly wolves and boar-like beasts, their bodies sleek with muscle and fur bristling with aggression.

The vanguard, a burly warrior with a gauntlet-covered arm, stomped the ground, sending jagged spikes of earth erupting in front of the creatures. Behind him, a woman in lighter armor murmured a prayer, casting a shimmering veil of healing water over his wounds. Further back, two spellcasters—one with wind whipping around her, the other conjuring bursts of fire—hurled magic into the fray.

For now, they were holding their ground. But they wouldn't last forever.

He assessed the situation quickly, his posture shifting into that of a trained knight. "They need backup." Without another word, he unsheathed his blade and charged forward.

She sighed, shifting the oversized hunk of metal in her hands. The damn thing still felt more like a tumor than an extension of herself, but complaining wouldn't change the fact that she needed a weapon.

Fine.

She ran after him, boots kicking up dirt as she rushed into the battle.

As she neared the swarm of monsters, something strange happened.

With no real thought, she lazily yelled, "Oi! Back off!"

It wasn't a battle cry. It wasn't even particularly threatening. If anything, it was barely above an annoyed complaint.

But the smallest wolves and boars—the ones still barely out of infancy—froze. Their ears flattened, eyes widening with primal fear. Then, as if some invisible force had seized them, they bolted.

She blinked.

The adventurers blinked.

Even he hesitated mid-step, glancing at her with an incredulous look.

The older, larger creatures didn't react the same way. If anything, her presence only seemed to enrage them further, their snarls growing deeper as they locked onto her and Tobias.

Well. That was weird.

She shook it off, lifting her heavy sword and planting her feet.

"Less staring, more fighting," she muttered, before launching herself into the battle.

Chapter 4.5: The Mother Wolf's Fury

The moment the mother dire wolf lunged, she knew.

Not through thought, but through instinct—an ingrained response far older than her fractured memories.

The creature was faster than the others, moving with a wild intelligence honed by countless hunts. Her massive frame cut through the air, claws glinting in the sunlight. Her target was clear.

Not him.

Her.

He barely had time to react, still shifting his stance, but it didn't matter.

The wolf had never been going for him.

She didn't think—her body simply moved.

A sharp dash backward. Just enough. The tips of the wolf's claws grazed her waist—shhk!—slicing clean through her belt. Her scabbard and excess cloth dropped away, but she was already countering.

One foot snapped up, planting firmly against the beast's chest.

For a split second, the world seemed to pause.

The wolf was still midair. Her claws were still reaching. Her snarl was still frozen in time, inches from her face.

But she pivoted.

Her body twisted effortlessly, rolling under the wolf's swinging arm as if gravity itself bent to accommodate her. Using the creature's own momentum, her foot pressed into thick fur, leveraging both their weight to twirl herself around.

To an outsider, it was either something incredibly masterful—or unbelievably obnoxious.

By the time her feet touched the ground, the dire wolf was still midair, her balance momentarily broken.

And her hand was already moving.

Not her blade. Not a weapon.

Her bare hand.

Fingers curled, wrist angled—the motion was fluid, thoughtless, precise. As natural as breathing.

Her palm smashed into the wolf's face, fingers carving through fur and flesh alike.

A wet, sickening squelch.

A shriek of pain ripped through the battlefield.

The mother wolf hit the ground with a heavy crash, skidding through the dirt as blood sprayed from her ruined eye. She thrashed wildly, letting out a guttural howl that sent the remaining beasts into a momentary frenzy.

But she just stood there, breathing evenly. Her fingers twitched, feeling the warmth of fresh blood between them.

And that was when she realized—

She had aimed for the eye without even thinking.

As if that had been the goal from the very start.

Chapter 4.6: The Blind Execution

The mother wolf's head snapped toward Jessica, her single remaining eye locking onto Jessica's position. Blood dripped down her ruined face, matting the thick fur around her jaw. Her snarl was guttural, filled with rage and raw pain—but it didn't matter.

She was already too late.

Jessica's body had moved before the wolf even finished turning.

The wolf's remaining eye was still in motion, still trying to track—

And Jessica's fingers were already plunging toward it.

A sharp, wet squelch.

The howl turned into a choked, agonized whimper.

Jessica ripped her hand free, now coated in sticky warmth.

The mother wolf staggered, pawing at her face in a desperate, futile attempt to comprehend her new darkness. The sheer brutality of the act sent shockwaves through the battlefield. Even the remaining beasts hesitated.

Jessica exhaled, stepping lightly away from the flailing creature.

She was still alive. But she was done.

Jessica's senses snapped back to the surroundings.

She could hear the adventurers still locked in battle—metal clashing against claws, spells crackling in the air. Yet the sounds had shifted. The momentum of the fight had changed.

Some of the wolves and boars hesitated. Others outright bolted, as if Jessica's mere presence had become something to fear.

A part of her registered the stunned silence of the adventurers.

And her brother.

Tobias hadn't moved. He hadn't even drawn his sword.

The fire mage's voice barely broke above the chaos.

"…The hell was that?"

The vanguard, a stocky man clad in heavy plate, was still standing firm, but his grip on his weapon had tightened.

"That wasn't just fast," he muttered. "That was… something else."

Jessica ignored them. Her attention was on her fallen sword.

The stupid, clunky, heavy tumor of a sword.

The one thing about this fight that still annoyed her.

She weaved between the remaining creatures without thinking, her body flowing like water, dodging wild swipes and snapping jaws. It was simple. Too simple. They were slow. Predictable.

Even completely blind, the mother wolf still lashed out in raw desperation, but her attacks were erratic, sloppy. Jessica ducked under a wild claw, twisted past another, until finally—

Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her sword.

And with a single downward arc, she ended her.

A heavy, final thud of the body collapsing into the dirt.

The battlefield went still.

The remaining beasts—especially the larger ones—began retreating, their animalistic instinct overriding whatever had driven them to attack in the first place. They had already been wary since her first half-hearted shout—now they were outright terrified.

"The hell is going on?" the fire mage hissed. "Why are they running?"

"I—" The vanguard hesitated, watching the creatures scatter. "…They shouldn't be."

But they were.

And Jessica could still feel their fear lingering in the air.