Blackwood Fortress — Command Hall
Outside, the world had already surrendered to winter.
The endless blizzard devoured mountains, forests, and sky alike beneath an ocean of white. Wind screamed across the frozen wilderness like the mourning of ancient ghosts, while layers of snow buried roads, rivers, and every trace of life beneath a merciless icy grave.
It was a season where even time itself seemed frozen.
But within Blackwood Fortress—
War was awakening.
The enormous command hall burned with suffocating heat. Flames crackled violently inside iron braziers, casting restless shadows across stone walls draped in beast pelts and battle banners. The long war table at the center of the room was covered in maps, supply records, and scouting reports weighed down by daggers and axes.
Every core figure of Blackwood Fortress had gathered.
Lena.
Linna.
Hask.
Barton.
Gerber.
Elk.
Woodhoof.
And many more commanders whose names alone now carried weight throughout the northern wilderness.
Yet despite the sheer number of powerful warriors present, not a single voice dared disturb the silence.
Because standing before the map—
Was Colin.
He stood motionless beneath the firelight, wrapped in a massive snow-white cloak crafted from the fur of a Frost-Claw Bear King. The cloak hung heavily from his broad shoulders like the mantle of a northern monarch.
The flickering flames illuminated only half his face.
The other half remained buried in shadow.
But his eyes—
Those calm, abyss-like eyes—
Burned brighter than the fire itself.
Cold.
Steady.
Absolute.
He stared silently at the vast northern region marked upon the map:
GIANT BEAR RIDGE.
A land of death.
A forbidden frozen wilderness where even veteran hunters vanished without leaving corpses behind.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
The pressure in the hall grew heavier and heavier until breathing itself became difficult.
Then—
Colin finally opened his mouth.
"The time has come."
His voice was low.
Yet the moment the words fell—
It felt as though a war drum had exploded inside every heart present.
Colin slowly turned around.
His gaze swept across the room.
That calm stare carried no rage.
No excitement.
No madness.
Only an overwhelming certainty powerful enough to crush hesitation itself.
"This winter," he said slowly, "is both a curse… and a gift."
"The snowstorms have sealed the south and blocked every foreseeable enemy from advancing toward us."
"But while our enemies are trapped…"
His hand slowly clenched.
"Our supplies are also disappearing."
"The cold is eating away at Blackwood Fortress every single day."
He looked around the room.
"I refuse to sit here and wait for death."
BOOM.
His palm slammed onto the war map.
The entire table trembled violently.
"This winter…"
"We attack."
A fierce light erupted within countless eyes.
Colin's voice grew colder.
"We will march into the blizzard itself and seize the fangs we need for the future."
"This operation…"
"I will personally lead."
The atmosphere instantly exploded.
Even Hask's breathing became heavier.
Colin's gaze turned toward the towering werewolf commander.
"Hask."
"PRESENT!"
The massive werewolf stepped forward violently, armor clanging like iron beasts colliding. The hesitation from earlier discussions had long vanished from his eyes.
What remained—
Was pure battle hunger.
Colin pointed toward Giant Bear Ridge.
"You and your Wolf Guards will accompany me."
"Additionally…"
"Select six hundred elite werewolf warriors."
"I want the strongest."
"The fiercest."
"The ones most capable of surviving in snowstorms."
"Within three days, every one of them will be fully equipped with the best weapons, leather armor, sled gear, and winter supplies Blackwood Fortress can provide."
His voice sharpened like a drawn blade.
"You are the spearhead of this hunt."
"The blade that will rip apart every obstacle standing before us."
Hask's lips slowly curled upward.
A savage smile appeared.
He slammed his fist against his chest.
THUD!!!
The impact echoed through the hall like a war drum.
"Chief!"
"Hask's fangs have waited too long for this hunt!"
"I swear on blood and bone—"
"We will tear open the north itself for you!"
The werewolf warriors behind him growled fiercely in response.
The air trembled with killing intent.
Colin gave a single nod before shifting his gaze elsewhere.
Toward another giant.
Barton.
Unlike Hask's violent savagery, the boarman commander sat silently like an immovable mountain.
Heavy.
Steady.
Reliable.
"Barton."
The boarman slowly raised his head.
"Mm."
Only a single sound emerged from his throat.
Yet everyone knew—
No warrior in Blackwood Fortress carried greater reliability than him.
Colin spoke calmly.
"Select three hundred of your best mountain warriors."
"The ones most skilled at transporting supplies and surviving in dangerous terrain."
"Your mission is different from Hask's."
"You are not merely hunters."
"You are the foundation of this entire expedition."
Colin pointed toward the mountains.
"You will learn how to establish camps in blizzard conditions."
"How to construct defensive positions with minimal tools."
"How to transport heavy prey across frozen mountain paths."
"How to survive where ordinary soldiers freeze to death."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"This expedition is also a trial."
"A trial to determine whether your Boarman Legion can become a true mountain warfare force under my command."
"A force capable of independent operations in extreme environments."
The room grew quiet.
Because everyone understood the meaning behind those words.
Colin was not preparing for a single hunt.
He was preparing for future wars.
Real wars.
Wars against kingdoms.
Against armies.
Against the North itself.
Barton lowered his head heavily.
"I understand."
Simple.
Direct.
Yet more dependable than any oath.
Colin finally turned toward the remaining leaders.
Lena.
Linna.
Goff.
Anna.
The sharpness in his expression softened slightly.
But the authority within his voice remained unquestionable.
"While I am away…"
"Blackwood Fortress belongs to you."
He looked at Lena first.
"Lena."
"You will oversee the entire fortress."
"I grant you supreme authority."
"All departments will obey your commands as though they were mine."
Lena's pupils trembled slightly.
That level of trust—
Was heavier than any crown.
Colin continued.
"I only have one requirement."
"When I return…"
"Every gear within Blackwood Fortress must still be turning."
Lena placed a hand over her chest and bowed deeply.
"I will not disappoint you."
Colin nodded before looking toward Linna.
"Linna."
"You are the wall of Blackwood Fortress."
"Double patrols."
"Expand scouting range."
"I don't care what methods you use…"
"But while I am gone—"
"Not even a single rat enters our territory unnoticed."
The wolf-woman's golden eyes flashed sharply.
"Understood."
Her voice carried icy killing intent.
Colin shifted again.
"Goff."
"You and Anna are the eyes of Blackwood Fortress."
"Monitor every nearby tribe, caravan, and force."
"If anything unusual appears…"
"Report immediately."
Goff grinned slightly.
"Leave it to us."
Finally—
Colin looked at Anna.
Compared to the others, his tone became gentler.
But somehow—
Even more serious.
"Anna."
"Besides assisting Goff…"
"You have another responsibility."
Anna straightened immediately.
Colin's gaze deepened.
"Stabilize the people."
"Tell them why we march north."
"Tell them this is not recklessness."
"This is survival."
"This is the path toward a future where Blackwood Fortress no longer fears winter."
"Use your wisdom."
"Use your voice."
"I need hope to remain alive here while I am gone."
Anna's chest tightened.
Then she nodded firmly.
"I understand, Chief."
The four answered together.
"WE UNDERSTAND!"
Their voices shook the hall.
The command structure was complete.
The expedition—
Had officially begun.
Colin slowly turned back toward the giant map.
Then—
His finger pressed heavily against the northern mountains.
"Our objective is clear."
"We march into Giant Bear Ridge."
"We will locate and capture Snow Giant Wolves."
A dangerous light flickered within his eyes.
"They will become the foundation of Blackwood Fortress' future wolf cavalry."
The room erupted slightly.
Wolf cavalry.
A true mounted werewolf force would become a nightmare on any battlefield.
But Colin wasn't finished.
"At the same time…"
"We will harvest Giant-Horned Oxen and Frost-Horned Deer herds."
His voice grew deeper.
"Their strength…"
"Their endurance…"
"Their ability to survive northern winters…"
"Will allow us to create something entirely new."
Something terrifying.
Something capable of changing warfare itself.
Colin's eyes burned like stars.
"A heavy cavalry force."
"One powerful enough to rival the armored knights of human kingdoms."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Everyone stared at him in shock.
Only now—
Only at this moment—
Did they finally understand the true scale of Colin's ambition.
This was never merely a hunt.
It was the birth of a future army.
The birth of a northern war machine.
The air inside the command hall became scorching hot.
Not from fire.
But from the flames ignited within every heart present.
Hope.
Ambition.
Hunger.
The hearth roared louder.
Outside, the storm screamed endlessly against the fortress walls.
But deep within Blackwood Fortress—
A sleeping beast had already opened its eyes.
And in those eyes—
Burned the cold, merciless light of conquest.