Chapter 3

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape as the knight stood before the marching caravan, watching from the cliff of the hill.

Sir Malver, a decorated and veteran warrior, headed this group. A man well into his thirties, he was a living testament to the countless battles and skirmishes of the hardships of the land. His once-youthful face now bore the marks of time, with lines etched across his brow and an expression that spoke of wisdom and experience. His beard, a lustrous gray, gave an air of gravity to his already commanding presence.

His eyes, a deep-set pair of steely blue orbs, seemed to hold the weight of decades of hard-won knowledge through the years.

Though aged, his athletic frame remained, broad shoulders and muscular build still hinted at the formidable warrior. His gait was determined, a reflection of the unwavering spirit that burned within him.

Clad in battle-scarred armor that had seen its fair share of combat, the man’s imposing figure was a symbol of steadfast dedication to his job. The metal suit, polished and well-maintained, told a story of a man who understood the importance of discipline and respect for his chosen profession. The crest emblazoned on his breastplate, a proud lion rampant, served as a reminder of his loyalty to his kingdom and his sworn duty to protect its people.

This was the leader who surveyed and watched over the band of travelers with a keen eye, ensuring that every single carriage got accounted for.

The group consisted of merchants, their families, and a small contingent of soldiers assigned to defend them.

“Get those carts moving! We must make it to the next town before nightfall!”

The knight bellowed, his voice cutting through the air with authority.

The travelers scrambled to increase their phase, the sound of horses whinnying and wagon wheels creaking increased. As they began to move faster.

Sir Malver mounted his steed, a magnificent black stallion covered in a shiny silver armor, and took his place at the head of the procession.

With the sun dipping ever closer to the horizon, the caravan moved at a brisk pace to reach their destination before nightfall.

The wagons trundled along the dirt road. They filled the air with the sounds of clacking, creaking, and the low hum of conversation, with the occasional neigh of horses.

As the group pushed on, a scout, clad in leather armor and carrying a longbow, rode up to the knight, urgency etched on his face.

“Sir, our patrol has spotted a pack of dire wolves nearby.”

The man heaves, fear now seen on his expression.

Malver’s brow furrowed in concern, lips pursing at the thought of the said beasts.

“How did they manage to get this close?”

He murmured in disbelief.

“We don’t know, sire. What should we do?”

The scout’s face was beginning to crumple, showing the immense terror he was feeling right now.

“Gather the first platoon. We’re going on ahead.”

Sir Malver quickly issued the order, aware of the dangers the creature brought. The scout nodded and sped off to relay the message.

The knight tightened his grip on the reins and scanned the surrounding area, his eyes narrowing as he searched for signs of the wolves. He knew that they would have to be vigilant, especially as darkness approached.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in a soft twilight, the caravan continued on, a newfound sense of urgency driving them forward.

The soldiers were on high alert as they gathered at the front. They consist of mixed individuals. Some were seasoned veterans with battle-hardened expressions. Others were young and eager, driven by dreams of glory and a desire to prove themselves worthy of the mantle they bore.

The tension hung heavy in the atmosphere, a palpable reminder of the potential danger they faced.

The faces of the soldier’s set in a grim expression, as they began rushing forward, moving ahead of the caravan with unwavering focus. They knew every minute counted, and that they needed to clear the path in order for their convoy to reach the safety of the town.

After traversing about a suitable distance, the group of warriors, headed by their leader, Sir Malver, slowed down at the sound of howls.

Their eyes scanned the landscape, ever vigilant of the beasts. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the forest that bordered the road.

As they rounded a bend, the sight that greeted them stopped them in their tracks. In a small clearing just off the pathway, they saw an unconscious man lying on the grass, his clothes torn and disheveled. Encircling him, like a pack of silent guardians, was a menacing group of monsters, their fur bristling and teeth bared, growling at one another as if fighting over who gets the first bite.

The knights exchanged shocked glances, their eyes wide with disbelief. They had dealt with dire wolves before, but they had never seen a number quite like this.

Malver’s voice cut through the stunned silence, waking every single soldier from their daze.

“All troops, charge!”

He commanded, his tone tense with urgency.

The knights snapped into action, drawing their swords and charging straight at the enormous beasts. They moved with such speed that the monsters shifted their attention to them.

Though taken by surprise, the dire wolves snarled in retaliation, their muzzles wrinkling with aggression, their eyes unblinking even from the upcoming cavalry.

As the two opponents drew closer, each let out a cry and howl. In unison, the knights lunged forward, their swords flashing in the fading sunlight. With a guttural growl, the alpha dire wolf led the charge in reply, fangs and claws upfront.

The knight stood his ground, sword raised, as the others braced for impact. As the beasts closed in, the soldiers swung their weapons with practiced precision, meeting the snarling beast’s head-on.

The clash was a whirlwind of steel and fur, as the soldiers fought against the onslaught of razor-sharp teeth and claws.

The battle raged on. The knights worked together, using their training and teamwork to outmaneuver the creatures. Yet, the size of their opponents and their speed was too hard for them to comprehend, as the enemy monsters had good coordination.

The beasts were relentless, feral as they ran berserk against their enemies, unfazed even though outnumbered.

The place grew thick with the scent of blood and sweat as both sides fought with ferocity and determination.

After a while of continues exchange, despite their bravery and efforts, the knights began to tire, their arms growing heavy from the weight of their swords. They knew they needed to end the fight quickly, or risk being overwhelmed by the seemingly unstoppable pack of wolves.

With a rallying cry, Sir Malver lead a desperate charged to cut down the beast’s leader, wishing to finish this battle in victory. The other knights followed suit, their determination renewed by their leader’s example. But it was all for naught, as their feeble weapons were useless, unable to graze against the higher leveled monster’s skin.

Exhausted and battered, their breaths turned into ragged gasps. These creatures were stronger than the usual, making the entire battle one sided. Though they had numbers, the difference in their strengths was too far off because of that alpha dire wolf.

Slowly, the soldiers began losing hope. Their once-unwavering resolve crumbled under the weight of the immense power of that single beast. Even Sir Malver, their fearless leader, felt the creeping tendrils of despair as he watched his comrades fall.

With their spirits shattered, the knights found themselves on the brink of defeat. Their once-impenetrable formation now fragmented, forcing them to watch helplessly as the creatures picked them off one by one.

In that moment of utter hopelessness, another battle cry echoed through the air, slicing through the sheer grasp of despair.

From afar, something similar to a shooting start shot straight for the group, taking out half of the monster just by its passing. The earth trembled from the beings landing, shaking the core of the beasts along with the ground.

Dust swirled, but upon its rest revealed a charming lad in his late teens, an air of confidence about him as he stood with a wide grin, his engaging smile capturing the attention of those around him.

His tousled chestnut hair danced playfully in the gentle breeze, framing a face that was the epitome of youthful vigor. His piercing black eyes sparkled with genuine warmth, inviting trust and hope from all who met his gaze. The diminishing light only served to accentuate his strong jawline and the stubble that graced his cheeks.

The youth’s broad shoulders and muscular physique were evident even beneath the armor he wore. His white linen shirt, tucked neatly into brown riding breeches, was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of his toned chest. A worn leather belt encircled his waist, from which hung a sheathed sword.

As he surveyed the battlefield, the line on his lips broadened, revealing a set of perfectly aligned, pearly-white teeth. There was a captivating charisma about him that seemed to draw people in, making them feel at ease. The soldiers ended up in cheer, thankful for the arrival of this striking young man.

The lad’s appearance brought a breath of life into the weary warriors. As he strode towards the remaining enemies, his presence gave out an aura that reverberated through the surrounding, as if his strength seeped out.

The dire wolves turned silent, understanding the risks of their new opponent. Their heads hung low and their tails tucked between their legs. The beasts trembled at the sight of the youth, all except for the largest among them, which was the alpha.

The two ended in a staring competition as neither backed down, both beast and man threw a threatening gaze at one another. Their standstill didn’t last long, for with a blink of an eye, both disappeared from where they stood, dashing at such speed only a few could see what had occurred.

A loud clank resonated as claw, and sword clashed. There was a sudden silence for a minute, until the alpha howled in agony, having a part of him cut off.

The lad seized the opportunity, lunging forward with his weapon. The thing hummed, letting out a glow, moving as if it had a life of its own. Its point drove towards the wolf’s chest as it turned to face him. The beast, caught off guard by the speed, yelped in pain as the blade found its mark, piercing with such force it cause blood to spray.

Out of sheer desperation and instinct, the monster quickly throws a few swipes, but the youth parried the first strike, then somersaulted out of the way on the second.

It didn’t take long and the alpha wolf let out a last howl before falling flat on the ground with a loud thud, groaning as the remnants of its breath slowly escaped.

The pack moved as one, united in their decision to retreat upon the death of their leader, disappearing into the shadows of the thick woods with their tails between their legs.

Cheers resounded throughout the area as the soldiers threw their hands in the air, all the while shouting.

“Hail Jack, the hero, slayer of the beast.”

Though most of their brothers-in-arms lay injured, everyone there shouted in sheer joy, having won the fierce battle against the monsters.

All the while, their leader, sir Malver, shook his head in disbelief and disappointment, sighing while watching his men hurrahed and dance gleefully from the rescue.

It put a sour taste in his mouth that a warrior of his caliber ended up sitting back on the sides. All because they were not lucky enough. He knew they could have handled the enemy themselves if they too had legendary items and skills like the individual before them. But alas, the heavens had not given them such a blessing.

That was different for the lad, of course. A summoned being from another world, the young man possessed not just this sense of knowledge they didn’t have, but also this innate confidence.

“All right, that would be enough. Those who can still move help the wounded. The others patrol the perimeter and make sure there aren’t any more enemies around.”

Sir Marvel finally breaks things off, annoyed by the joyous outburst, even though they ended up with so many beaten up. He didn’t want to break the lively atmosphere, but there was the problem with the individual the wolves were after.

With that, everyone started murmuring, but did not dare to dismiss the order. As they celebrated their victory discreetly, all the while giving their savior a good patting and a greeting here and there.

With a new thought, the leader of the knight nudges his steed to where the man was laying flat on the ground.

Clothes tattered, unconscious, and muddied, the individual didn’t seem to amount to anything much. There were no signs of power seeping from him, nor did he have any kind of weapon or items with him, causing Marvel to wonder how the fellow survive an attack from dire wolves.

If he was with a different caravan, the patrols were bound to find traces of them. But then, there was the question of who the individual was. Though his clothing suggested he was from their land, his facial features were unique. Worst, the person seems to resemble those of the heroes, being of a brownish tone, and his hair had this mix of black and brown.

The knight frowned, thoughts clamoring one after the other. Was this person perhaps related to the summoned saviors? or possibly be someone from another land? His pondering got cut short by the shouts of new voices approaching them.

It was the other heroes from their kingdom, running towards their companion. Not wanting to be plagued by questions, he moves for the trio, causing the group to suddenly end their joyous conversation.

“Sir Marvel! How can we help you?”

The dire wolf slayer asks, throwing a wide grin at him. It seems once again the youth was full of himself because of his achievement.

The knight shrugs it off, not wanting to be seen as a bickering old coot. He points to the unknown individual who remained slump on the ground.

“That man, is he one of you?”

He gestures at the fellow.

If they did not recognize him, then he could manage the person without difficulty, but if he was related to any of the three, then he would encounter a problem with the nobles, so he wanted to avert any kind of conflict.

Two of the youths look at each other with confused expression, their faces saying they knew nothing, shrugging their shoulders as if to tell him they did not recognize him. He was about to let out a sigh of relief, but then the third and most timid among them gasp, gaping in sheer shock while jumping.

“I do! I know that guy!”

The youngster screams aloud.

With a frown and a glare, all sir Malver could do was groan, wiping his face in utter frustration at the knowledge of a newcomer. As the recent appearance of their so-called saviors had created a massive shift in the power struggles within their land, the addition was bound to cause another whirlwind of changes in their kingdom for sure, and the thought of it only caused an abrupt aching inside his head.