"An opportunity."
The moment Colin's eyes locked onto the fleeing silver torrent racing across the frozen plains, those two cold words flashed through his mind like lightning.
Around him, exhausted warriors still gasped for breath after the brutal battle against the Giant-Horned Ox herd.
Many Snow Giant Wolves were wounded.
Some riders had blood frozen across their armor.
The snowfield behind them resembled a slaughterhouse soaked in crimson.
But Colin saw none of that.
Or rather—
Compared to the unimaginable value before him, such losses no longer mattered.
Because racing through the cedar forest ahead—
Was the future of Blackwood Fortress.
Thousands of Frost-Horned Deer.
Speed.
Endurance.
Reproduction.
Mobility.
Every single one represented military power.
The instant the silver herd appeared beneath the blood-red sunset, the exhaustion inside Colin's eyes vanished completely.
In its place erupted terrifying greed and ambition.
A fire hot enough to burn kingdoms to ash.
"The herd is panicking!"
"Their formation is broken!"
Colin's voice exploded across the battlefield like a blade forged from winter itself.
"This is the best possible moment to capture them!"
"HASK!"
The roar shook every warrior awake.
"Take all Wolf Guards!"
"Take every warrior mounted on a Snow Giant Wolf!"
"I don't care how exhausted you are!"
"I don't care how badly your mounts are wounded!"
"PURSUE THEM!"
"NOW!"
Then his gaze snapped toward Barton.
"Barton!"
The boarman commander straightened immediately.
"Hold the ox herd!"
"Secure the battlefield!"
"Treat the wounded!"
"If even one Giant-Horned Ox escapes—"
Colin's eyes turned icy.
"I'll hold you personally responsible."
Barton slammed his fist against his chest.
"UNDERSTOOD!"
"AWOOOOOO—!!"
Hask threw his head back and unleashed a savage howl bursting with excitement and bloodlust.
Not even exhaustion could suppress the frenzy inside him.
If anything—
Colin's command only ignited him further.
He kicked his wolf mount violently.
The exhausted Snow Giant Wolf beneath him roared and surged forward like white lightning exploding across the snowfields.
Behind him—
The Thirteen Wolf Guards followed instantly.
Then came over three hundred werewolf warriors mounted atop newly tamed Snow Giant Wolves.
Their riding techniques were rough.
Unstable.
Clumsy.
But their eyes—
Their eyes burned with fanaticism.
Without hesitation, they charged after Hask.
And within seconds—
A white torrent exploded across the blood-colored snowfield beneath the setting sun.
Over three hundred Snow Giant Wolves surged into the dark cedar forest like death unleashed.
The hunt had begun.
Capturing Frost-Horned Deer was completely different from hunting Giant-Horned Oxen.
The oxen relied on power.
The deer relied on speed.
To catch them required perfect timing, endurance, and coordination between rider and wolf.
This time—
There would be no large-scale encirclement.
No slow tightening traps.
The Wolf Riders instead became relentless predators.
They relied entirely on the terrifying mobility of the Snow Giant Wolves.
The wolves crossed snowfields like teleporting phantoms, capable of maintaining explosive speed for hours without stopping.
Hask and the Thirteen Wolf Guards acted like the sharp tip of a spear.
They bit tightly onto the tail of the fleeing herd, constantly harassing them with threatening maneuvers and savage howls.
Like experienced shepherds driving sheep toward slaughter.
Meanwhile, the remaining Wolf Riders spread outward into a massive elastic net.
They attacked the flanks repeatedly.
Compressing.
Dividing.
Driving the deer herd deeper into exhaustion.
The chase became absolute chaos.
Some werewolf warriors gripped their mounts' fur so tightly from nervousness they forgot to use the lassos hanging from their waists.
Others lacked coordination with their wolves entirely.
One rider was violently smashed from his mount when his wolf abruptly dodged beneath a low cedar branch.
He rolled across the snow screaming while nearby warriors burst into savage laughter.
Another young warrior became overly excited after successfully flanking part of the herd.
Blinded by confidence, he charged directly toward the largest buck leading the herd.
A fatal mistake.
The enormous Frost-Horned buck lowered its crystal antlers and struck like a spear.
CRACK!
The antlers pierced directly into the Snow Giant Wolf's shoulder.
The rider was launched through the air like a broken doll before crashing headfirst into the snow.
The enraged buck let out a shrill cry and continued running.
But despite the chaos—
The pursuit never stopped.
Because the white torrent behind the deer carried unstoppable will.
Whips cracked.
Snow exploded.
Heavy lassos whistled through the freezing air like hunting serpents.
The riders focused primarily on weaker targets.
Pregnant does.
Exhausted females.
Young fawns unable to maintain speed.
One young werewolf rider locked onto a pregnant doe falling gradually behind the herd.
His breathing became rough.
Sweat froze across his brow.
He tightened his grip on the oil-soaked lasso.
Then—
"GO!"
The rope shot through the air.
But he used too much force.
The lasso sailed completely over the doe's head before tangling uselessly in a cedar branch.
"Damn it!"
Frustration exploded across the young warrior's face.
But beside him—
An older veteran suddenly growled.
"LEFT!"
"FORCE IT LEFT!"
The younger rider froze momentarily.
Then understanding struck instantly.
He yanked his mount sharply sideways.
His Snow Giant Wolf responded immediately.
The wolf cut across the doe's escape path with terrifying speed.
Panicked, the doe instinctively swerved right.
Directly into a massive ancient cedar tree.
THUD!!!
The collision echoed through the forest.
The doe collapsed into the snow in a spray of white powder.
The young rider stared blankly.
Then wild joy exploded across his face.
He had done it.
His first capture.
And throughout the forest—
Countless similar scenes unfolded simultaneously.
The white wolves and silver deer raced endlessly through the snowy wilderness like strokes painted across a vast frozen canvas.
Wolf howls echoed between ancient trees.
Deer cries pierced the night.
Branches snapped.
Snow collapsed beneath pounding hooves.
The hunt became a primal symphony of blood, instinct, and survival.
And it continued—
For four straight hours.
By the time darkness fully consumed the forest, the exhausted Frost-Horned Deer herd had finally been driven into a trap.
A narrow frozen pass.
Steep ice walls rose on both sides like prison walls carved by giants.
The leading buck charged into the passage first—
Then froze.
Ahead of it stood Icefang and several elite Snow Giant Wolves.
Blocking the only escape route.
The buck's obsidian eyes widened.
Despair.
Pure despair.
Panic exploded through the herd instantly.
The deer behind continued surging forward, crashing violently into those ahead.
The narrow pass descended into complete chaos.
Bodies slammed together.
Antlers tangled.
Cries of fear echoed endlessly.
And then—
The Wolf Riders arrived.
From the opposite end of the pass, the white torrent surged forward like death itself.
"ENCIRCLE THEM!"
Hask's roar sounded like the final judgment of the Reaper.
More than three hundred Wolf Riders flooded into the trapped herd from both sides.
Lassos filled the air like a rain of death.
At this point—
The hunt was over.
This was slaughter.
Capture.
Domination.
The riders moved with ruthless efficiency.
Deer were dragged down one after another.
Separated.
Bound.
Subdued.
The silver torrent was torn apart completely beneath overwhelming numbers and relentless pursuit.
When the crescent moon finally rose above the frozen wilderness—
The hunt ended.
The results shocked everyone.
Nearly two thousand Frost-Horned Deer had been successfully captured alive.
Among them were over a thousand healthy breeding females and newborn fawns.
In addition—
Many large aggressive bucks had been killed during the pursuit, providing enormous quantities of fresh meat.
Enough to eliminate the threat of starvation for a very long time.
The battlefield resembled a kingdom of silver antlers beneath the moonlight.
And standing atop a mountain formed from shattered crystal-like antlers—
Colin smiled.
Not the cold smile of a conqueror.
Not the emotionless smile of a ruler.
But something far rarer.
Pure joy.
For the first time in a long while, the ice surrounding his heart cracked slightly.
Because he knew—
From this moment onward—
Blackwood Fortress finally possessed the foundation for three terrifying cavalry forces capable of making the entire North tremble in fear.