Wild predators usually don't attack prey that can threaten them.
In the wild, even a minor injury could prove fatal to a healthy predator.
So when assessing prey, the first thing on their minds wasn't “Can I take it?” but rather, “What will it cost me to eat it?”
Rosie remembered this principle from the nature documentaries she had watched in her past life.
She knew it was unrealistic to take down the whole pack on her own.
But if she made the pack realize that eating her meant putting their lives on the line, they would hesitate.
Hesitation led to weighing the risks, and once they weighed the risks, unless they were starving to death, they would most likely back off.
That was Rosie's chance of survival.
So, the moment the wolves launched their attack, she neither retreated nor defended.
With only two hands, how could she block wolves lunging from multiple directions at once?
If even a single wolf bit down and dragged her to the ground, the rest would swarm her and tear her to pieces.
The snow wolf directly ahead crouched low, the blue glow in its throat reaching its peak as an ice arrow readied for launch.
At the same time, the snow wolves on her left and right launched off their hind legs, leaping into the air to pounce on her from both sides.
A three-pronged attack executed in seamless coordination.
The snow wolves' tactics were flawless.
But they had overlooked one thing.
Rosie was no ordinary two-legged beast.
Just as the wolves on either side reached the apex of their jump, loose dirt exploded beneath Rosie's feet.
Whoosh!
Combat Technique—Charge.
The magic gathering inside the lead wolf's throat had reached its critical limit, the tip of the ice arrow already peeking out from its slightly parted jaws.
Yet an afterimage was already sweeping past it.
Schlink!
A soft sound, like scissors slicing through heavy cloth.
Rosie used no fancy moves.
Riding the momentum of her sprint and twisting her hips with full force, she dragged her short sword across the underside of the snow wolf's throat.
A thin red line bloomed across the wolf's neck as its gathered mana spiraled out of control.
Bang!
The wolf's eyes bulged violently, its limbs stiffened for a second, and it crashed heavily to the ground.
Steaming blood spewed from its ruptured throat.
Behind her, the two wolves that had missed their leap landed and spun around instantly, lowering their forelegs to prepare for a second pounce.
Then they saw their ice arrow-firing packmate collapsed on the dirt, its throat sliced wide open, dark blood already soaking a large patch of the white fur beneath its neck.
The pack's second strike froze mid-motion.
It was just a split second of hesitation.
Harnessing the remaining momentum of her Charge, Rosie slammed her shield into the dirt with her left hand and forcefully swung herself around.
Soil exploded beneath her feet once more.
Like lightning, she bolted straight toward the outermost snow wolf.
That wolf had just turned its head to look at its fallen packmate, its brain still processing what had just happened.
Instinct screamed at it to reevaluate the threat level of this two-legged beast, but before that instinct could translate into action, Rosie was already right in front of it.
Using the inertia of her sprint, she thrust upward.
The tip of her short sword pierced the soft flesh under the wolf's jaw, driving diagonally upward through its throat right to the hilt.
Rosie threw her entire body weight behind the strike, tackling the sizable snow wolf to the ground.
The instant they hit the earth, she twisted the blade viciously and ripped it out.
Splat!
A spray of blood erupted in the moonlight, splashing across Rosie's face.
Warm wolf blood ran down her cheeks, dripping onto her leather cuirass and the back of her sword-hand.
“Ergh... ergh...”
The snow wolf let out a few muffled whimpers, its four legs clawing helplessly at the air.
The remaining snow wolves backed away in unison.
The actions of this two-legged beast were completely beyond their comprehension.
One moment she was surrounded in the middle, and the next, two of their packmates were down.
There was no struggle, no back-and-forth—only instant kills.
If she could kill their packmates so easily, she could kill them too.
Rosie pressed one knee against the twitching wolf body and pushed herself up.
Her chest heaved heavily. Using burst skills back-to-back consumed vastly more stamina than running, and her right forearm holding the sword quivered slightly.
She raised her head, her gaze sweeping over the remaining wolves.
The blood trailing down her face gleamed a dark red under the moonlight.
Paired with her cold, bright eyes beneath her helmet, she looked for all the world like the true apex predator of this hollow.
“Awooo—Awooo—!”
The wolves retreating into the distance began to howl, alternating long and short calls in a distinct pattern.
Rosie frowned.
“Still not running... What are you waiting for?”
Aren't wolves supposed to seek gain and avoid risk?
She had clearly demonstrated her lethality. By all logic, they should have tucked their tails and scrambled away.
Just then, atop the slope, a figure significantly larger than the ordinary snow wolves slowly stepped into view.
The alpha wolf.
It had arrived with the rest of the pack.
The alpha was noticeably larger than the regular snow wolves, its shoulder muscles bulging prominently, every stride radiating an oppressive weight.
Its fur was not pure white, but an icy blue streaked with silver-gray, shimmering cold under the moonlight.
It glanced down at the two dead packmates on the ground.
Without a furious roar, it simply gazed quietly for a few seconds before lifting its head to fix its eyes on Rosie.
That look made the hairs on Rosie's back stand on end.
It was calculating.
Judging how much strength this two-legged beast had left.
Deciding whether continuing the fight was worth the cost.
Rosie backed against the slope once more, raising her shield in a defensive stance.
She forced her breathing to steady and stilled the tremor in her sword-hand.
She stared straight into the alpha's eyes, striking a pose that any wolf would interpret as a provocation.
Come at me! I'm not afraid of you.
Human and wolf locked eyes under the moonlight.
The night wind gusted, swirling a few dead leaves past the edges of Rosie's boots.
The alpha's icy blue eyes unblinkingly stared at her.
After a few breaths, it tilted its head slightly.
A low growl rumbled from its throat, and it turned, walking back the way it came with unhurried strides.
The remaining snow wolves immediately fell in line behind it.
Rosie didn't drop her shield right away, but she let out a long breath.
“Phew...”
Before she could even finish exhaling, however...
The rapid thunder of horse hooves suddenly rang out from the darkness.
The clatter was orderly and heavy, accompanied by the distinct crisp ringing of metal striking the earth.
Rosie rushed out of the hollow to look.
And there, she witnessed a scene she would never forget for the rest of her life.
Several heavy knights, both rider and mount clad in full armor, burst out from the night.
Moonlight bathed their figures, the polished steel of their armor reflecting a cold silver light that trailed behind them in long, flowing ribbons of radiance.
The iron hooves of their warhorses pounded the earth, kicking up bursts of soil with every stride.
The lead knight wielded an all-metal heavy lance, its tip gleaming with a deadly chill under the moonlight.
He didn't even slow down.
He plowed straight into the caught-off-guard wolf pack.
A clean, decisive thrust.
The heavy lance impaled the alpha wolf's body.
With a flick of his wrist, the knight actually lifted the snow wolf—weighing at least a hundred pounds—into the air and flung it away.
The alpha wolf's body traced an arc through the night before slamming heavily onto the ground, rolling twice, and growing completely still.
The armored knights behind him followed close on his heels, each wielding an all-metal heavy lance, none losing an ounce of speed.
Lances carved cold, precise arcs through the moonlight. With every thrust, a snow wolf was impaled, hoisted, and tossed aside.
In the blink of an eye, more than half the snow wolves were dead.
Completely powerless to resist!
Rosie stood frozen on the spot, her mouth agape as if turned to stone.
Heavy knights.
In her mind, such cavalry were battlefield heavy weapons—unstoppable in a straight charge, but clumsy when turning, poor in mobility, and forced to regroup after every pass.
Yet these knights moved with the agility of acrobats on horseback.
Accelerating, turning, impaling, flinging—the entire sequence flowed like water, their horses stepping as lightly as deer darting through a forest.
The snow wolves that had been so dominant moments ago were like lambs before a pride of lions.
Then, by the moonlight, she caught sight of the emblem on the knights' cloaks.
It was a pure white cloak embroidered with a crown, beneath which rested two crossed swords encircled by an oak leaf wreath.
The Order of Norman Knights.
The strongest order of knights in the Kingdom of Norman.
The surviving snow wolves let out terrified whimpers and scattered in all directions with their tails tucked.
The knight who had impaled the alpha wolf trotted his horse over to Rosie.
The massive warhorse, clad head-to-toe in metal barding, loomed over her like a small mountain. Rosie suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of pressure.
Did they really send an entire order of knights just to arrest me for killing a couple of thugs?
With one hand holding his long lance high, the knight raised his visor with the other.
Moonlight illuminated his face.
It was a sharply chiseled face, with a chin so pointed it could practically stab someone to death.
“Miss Rosie, we meet again. Are you alright?”
Rosie glanced down at the scabbed-over back of her hand and the wolf blood across her chest.
She looked back up at the knight whose silver armor haloed in the moonlight, her gaze lingering on his sharp chin, her lips twitching uncontrollably.
“...Sir Knight, what a coincidence.”
Rate on N.U.
