The Frozen March
Before dawn arrived, while the world still slumbered beneath endless darkness and snow, the expedition quietly departed Blackwood Fortress.
Nearly a thousand warriors disappeared soundlessly into the blizzard.
No drums.
No banners.
No triumphant war cries.
Only the muffled crunch of boots sinking into snow and the low breathing of beasts beneath layers of frost-covered fur.
Then—
The long march into the north began.
The snowfields were merciless.
From the very first day, the storm showed no intention of sparing them.
The wind screamed across the wilderness like an enraged ancient spirit, carrying countless razor-sharp ice particles that slashed against exposed skin with terrifying force. Every breath felt like inhaling frozen blades directly into the lungs.
Cold.
Endless cold.
It seeped through armor, through leather, through flesh itself, attempting to extinguish every trace of warmth hidden within the body.
Time gradually lost meaning in that white world.
Day and night blended together beneath the heavy gray sky.
A single hour felt eternal.
An entire day vanished in an instant.
Only the pale sun occasionally breaking through the storm clouds allowed them to barely distinguish dawn from dusk.
The expedition became like a ghost fleet sailing through an endless frozen ocean.
No landmarks.
No roads.
No certainty.
Only faith pushed them forward.
Forward.
Forward again.
And still forward.
The warriors rarely spoke anymore.
Energy was precious.
Even words felt heavy in such an environment.
Snow accumulated on armor and fur cloaks until every man resembled a walking statue carved from ice. Beards froze solid. Fingers numbed. Muscles stiffened beneath the relentless assault of winter.
Yet nobody stopped.
Because at the very front of the marching column—
Colin continued moving forward without hesitation.
Like a spear piercing through the storm itself.
That unwavering figure became the greatest source of strength for the entire army.
As long as he kept walking—
Nobody dared fall behind.
By the afternoon of the second day, the storm finally weakened slightly.
The pale winter sun struggled weakly against the horizon, casting dim silver light across the snow-covered mountains.
And then—
Everything changed.
The expedition finally crossed the final ridge of Giant Bear Ridge.
The moment Colin reached the summit atop Mo's enormous back—
His pupils contracted violently.
Even his battle-hardened heart trembled slightly.
Because beyond the ridge—
Lay an entirely different world.
A gigantic basin stretched endlessly beyond the mountains like a hidden kingdom forgotten by the gods.
Vast.
Primitive.
Magnificent beyond words.
It resembled a colossal cradle carved directly into the chest of the earth itself.
At the basin's center flowed a frozen river so enormous it looked like a silver dragon sleeping across the land. Thick crystal ice reflected countless rays of pale sunlight, causing the river to shine like a divine ribbon forged from diamonds.
On both sides of the frozen river spread endless meadows covered only by thin layers of snow.
Unlike the dead wasteland behind them—
Life still existed here.
Through the shallow snow, lush green grasses and hardy shrubs could still be seen swaying beneath the winter wind.
Green.
Living green.
It was so shocking that many warriors momentarily forgot how to breathe.
There were no violent blizzards here.
No screaming storms.
Only calm wind carrying the scent of frozen earth and wild vegetation.
It felt unreal.
Like heaven hidden inside the northern apocalypse.
"My gods…"
A werewolf warrior stared blankly into the basin.
"A place like this… actually exists?"
Shock spread rapidly through the expedition.
The exhausted warriors looked down at the basin with greedy, disbelieving eyes.
After days trapped in endless white death—
This vibrant hidden valley felt like paradise itself.
Hope began igniting inside countless hearts.
But before the atmosphere could fully erupt—
A sharp wolf howl suddenly ripped through the silence.
"Awooooo—!!"
Instantly—
Every warrior froze.
The sound came from one of Hask's forward scouts.
Short.
Sharp.
Urgent.
And filled with unmistakable excitement.
The atmosphere transformed immediately.
Hope vanished.
In its place rose something far more primal.
The instinct of hunters sensing prey.
Weapons tightened.
Breathing slowed.
Hundreds of warriors silently lowered their centers of gravity like predators preparing to pounce.
Moments later—
A Wolf Guard emerged silently from the edge of the basin.
His body moved like a phantom through the shrubs before he knelt before Hask and rapidly began communicating through a series of werewolf hand signals.
Hask's eyes instantly ignited.
Wild excitement exploded across his savage face.
He turned toward Colin immediately.
"Chief."
His voice trembled slightly from restrained bloodlust.
"We found them."
The surrounding warriors stiffened.
Colin's expression remained calm.
"Report."
The scout inhaled sharply.
"In the river valley ahead, hidden among the shrubs, we discovered a large number of wolf tracks."
"They're enormous."
"Far larger than ordinary wolves."
"But slightly smaller than our current Snow Giant Wolves."
Excitement filled his voice.
"It's them."
"Snow Giant Wolves."
Murmurs instantly spread throughout the group.
The scout continued quickly.
"We also found fresh prey remains nearby."
"A mountain goat."
"It was killed instantly."
"No prolonged struggle."
"No wasted movement."
"Clean kill marks."
He swallowed unconsciously.
"They're expert hunters."
"And based on the tracks…"
The scout's voice grew heavier.
"This is a large pack."
"They've claimed the valley as winter hunting territory."
Hask took a step forward immediately.
The enormous werewolf commander looked like a starving beast moments away from breaking free of its chains.
"Chief…"
His claws flexed slowly.
"Let us attack now."
"We can crush them before nightfall."
But Colin slowly raised one hand.
Silence.
Hask immediately stopped speaking.
Colin dismounted from Mo and stepped toward the tracks personally.
His white cloak drifted softly behind him like snow itself.
Then—
He crouched down beside the paw prints.
The surrounding warriors instinctively held their breath.
Colin's eyes sharpened.
Like scalpels.
Like a master hunter examining the battlefield left behind by another predator.
The massive paw prints were deeply embedded into the snow.
Wild.
Powerful.
Dangerous.
But Colin saw more than simple tracks.
He noticed slight snow accumulation partially covering the outer edges.
That meant the pack had only recently passed through this area.
Fresh.
Very fresh.
His gaze shifted to the spacing between footprints.
Precise.
Rhythmic.
Disciplined.
These wolves did not move chaotically.
They maintained formation while traveling.
That alone proved intelligence beyond ordinary beasts.
Then Colin noticed deeper scratches hidden beneath the snow.
Claw marks.
Extremely sharp claw marks.
Even frozen ground had been torn apart during movement.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Powerful limbs.
Explosive acceleration.
Exceptional traction.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Finally, his gaze shifted toward the remains of the mountain goat.
He didn't touch the corpse.
He merely observed.
And reconstructed the kill instantly within his mind.
"No struggle."
His calm voice echoed softly across the ridge.
"No excessive blood spread."
"The prey died almost immediately."
He slowly stood up.
"Their speed, coordination, and attack precision are extremely high."
"This is not a disorganized beast pack."
"This is a disciplined hunting group."
His eyes moved toward the valley depths.
"Even the feeding marks are evenly distributed."
"No signs of fighting over food."
"No chaotic tearing."
"That means strict hierarchy."
"Strong leadership."
"A true wolf society."
The surrounding warriors felt chills crawl down their spines.
Because Colin's analysis painted a terrifying image.
These weren't monsters.
They were soldiers.
Predators with intelligence and discipline.
Colin stared toward the dense shrublands deep within the basin.
As if he could already see the creatures hidden there.
Then—
He spoke again.
"This is a true Snow Giant Wolf pack."
"A direct assault would only alarm them."
The atmosphere instantly grew heavy.
Colin's voice suddenly thundered across the ridge.
"ALL UNITS!"
Every warrior straightened instantly.
"ENTER COMBAT STATUS!"
The entire expedition transformed in an instant.
Weapons unsheathed.
Bows tightened.
Shields lowered.
Even breathing became quieter.
"Barton!"
The boarman commander roared immediately.
"HERE!"
"Unload the sled supplies."
"Establish a temporary defensive perimeter immediately."
"Select fifty men to establish camp fortifications."
"The rest will switch to grappling battleaxes."
His gaze sharpened.
"Once battle begins…"
"Your task is interception."
"Stop the wolves' charge."
"Buy us time."
Barton slammed his fist against his chest.
"UNDERSTOOD!"
"Hask!"
The werewolf commander stepped forward instantly.
"HERE!"
"Lead six hundred werewolf warriors."
"Spread outward and form a loose semicircular encirclement around the valley."
"All archers prepare for suppressive volleys."
"But remember this clearly…"
Colin's eyes turned ice-cold.
"No one attacks without my command."
Hask grinned savagely.
"Yes, Chief."
Finally—
Colin looked once more toward the faint tracks disappearing into the valley depths.
The hidden territory of kings.
His voice lowered into something cold and dangerous.
"Follow the trail."
"Advance carefully."
"We are not hunting ordinary beasts today."
A chilling smile appeared on his face.
"We are hunting kings."
"And our target…"
His gaze pierced into the darkness beyond the shrubs.
"Is the Snow Giant Wolf King."
Silence answered him.
A suffocating silence filled with bloodlust.
Then—
The entire expedition moved.
Like a pack of predators entering another predator's territory.
Quietly.
Carefully.
Hungrily.
Step by step, they followed the faint tracks deeper into the hidden basin where life and death intertwined together beneath the winter sky.
And somewhere within that silent wilderness—
A king was already watching them.