A True Agmar

Sigurd and Eva cleared the entire pack of wolves, skinning and dismantling them easily while forced to store the meat rather than eating it fresh. 

"Can we not just make a fire now? It seems quiet..." Eva muttered while cutting the edges of their flesh with her curved Elven blade, flicks of blood and meat splashing across the surrounding grass.

"No."

'How can I tell her another monster is tracking us, stronger and more dangerous than the wolves, without worrying her?'

He could feel it, lingering in the forest just within his range, the number unknown, but their speed and intellect seemed far beyond the wolves.

'Why do they come close, then suddenly pull back? I don't understand.'

"We should prepare ourselves. There are monsters currently observing our movements—whether they are enemies or vultures, I would much rather avoid getting surrounded, Eva."

Sigurd could tell her eyes were scrutinising his words. Those narrow azure gemstones focused on his face for what felt like minutes. "Fine, if you say so, I will trust you."

He felt a moment of peace the second she accepted his plan.

'Despite being my familiar now, I didn't restrict her free will. It felt too much like the church and their damn blessings.'

The speed they dismantled increased while Eva focused on her task without speaking. Sigurd stood near the northern opening of the forest, lifting Mammon, which seemed to pulsate at the existence of new enemies.

"A slightly bigger pain than wolves... Yet holding Mammon seems to lower their threat value." 

Eva's sharp-tipped ears flickered. Thankfully, after making an oath together, they grew closer to an elf than half-elf, allowing for more accurate hearing.

A whistle sounded in the depths of the forest.

Black leaves and grass rustling under the foot of the marching enemy.

'They finished assessing our power, so they come?'

Sigurd turned his eyes back, peeking at Eva, who watched him quietly—he felt as if her eyes trusted him completely. 

A symptom of the oath or her feelings, he didn't know. However, there wasn't time to check because the new enemy and wolves were now rushing towards them!

"Eva, can you use a bow?" His bright tone showed a small hope while shifting back towards their backpacks.

"Not very well... It takes mana to use Elven bows." 

Rustle! Rustle! 

He felt a sense of regret, his focus turning back to the wolves and strange enemy. It wasn't her fault, and if they knew what would happen now, both of them would bring one—hindsight at its finest!

"Eva, the enemy is coming. Four wolves from the west, six from the east and another group close to nine hundred metres north are rushing towards our position!"

"!?"

Sigurd didn't see her face but heard the funny sound from her lips as she dragged her boots through the mud to stand quickly and then a swoosh as she twisted her spear. 

'I will have to use that form. With only three rings in the past, I could barely hold it for three minutes. My limit now should be roughly four minutes.'

"After the wolves..." 

"Hmm?"

"Nothing, get ready—you take the four to the west. I'll kill the ones on the right."

"O-Okay!" 

He didn't respond—rather, his body dashed towards the wolves to the east.

His enemy was further away than hers as his left hand started flickering with black and green flaming bolts, unaware of how strong the new enemy would be.

Mammon grasped tightly and prepared for combat.

"Kill them, Eva."

Swoosh!

It happened before he noticed her attack—a two-metre-tall silver wolf lay on the floor, its body split in half. Upon seeing this, he realised there was no need to watch her. Instead, he focused on his combat, flicked his left hand forward and let the flaming bolts fire in a rapid storm of emerald flame bullets. 

—Noctra Burst!

The feeling of the magic being pumped from his abdomen, swirling through his stomach to his left shoulder as it formed the flaming bullets constantly—rather than accuracy, he wanted to kill the seven wolves before the enemy to the north arrived.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Blood splashed across the wet grass as the wolves staggered and fell dead, with multiple holes in their bodies—his Noctra burst cascading through the air like a rain of death for the low-level wolves. Honestly, he realised these wolves could barely be called Agmar.

Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!

In the background, Sigurd heard the sounds of Eva fighting, realising her fighting style suited him well—agile, with no need for too much backup.

His hands shook when he saw her twisting and dashing like a serpent in the grass.

'That should be me! I am not just an apprentice warlock, but a knight!'

He wanted to fight in the melee, too. His body lunged forward, and he held the large black Mammon over his shoulder.

The six heavy rings increased the damage when slashing or sweeping.

As his feet grew faster, a wild grin covered his face. He wanted to rush into the enemy's group. The excitement and desire to feel blood on his skin were far greater than when he fought as a knight.

"COME!"

His eyes focused on the four wolves that jumped forward—his right leg dropped, twisting his wrist as he sliced across the air, with his blade howling across the wind.

A sudden burst of magic surged from his abdomen, flooding his arm and filling his sword.

"Huh!?"

His feet halted. He felt confused.

'Where did the wolves go?'

The four wolves lay dead on the ground, their bodies split open, displaying the wolf's soft red insides, while the surrounding area was a disaster, burning with intense green flames... In his excitement, the amount of magic he produced on his sword seemed to have exploded when he struck. 

Suddenly, while he was confused.

The sound of something flying towards him with a loud and rugged whistle caused him to move by reaction, lifting Mammon to block his left side—a resounding clang followed by intense force and a flash of sparks filled his view.

Before a painful shock and numbness in his arms and abdomen caused his lips to utter a guttural shout, "EVA DODGE!"

While he felt an incredible force, a giant shadow appeared in his view, looming over his body like an angel of death. It was a huge humanoid monster with thick fatty skin, wearing leather armour and carrying a huge hammer coated in blood and a pig's face. 

Orcs, the target enemy, found them first!

'No good!'

Sigurd knew this wasn't just the first orc. This was the leader or a special orc—this feeling in his chest was certain. Its intensity is far beyond the four others.

'Is this fate?'

"Man... Buhi... die!"

"Hahaha! What an ugly face you have, orc!"

The magic in his stomach surged again, this time controlled by Sigurd's desire as it lingered between his arms and chest to react rapidly.

There was no leeway for him to even think about Eva, yet Sigurd's twisted grin of delight would make anyone misunderstand him.

That Sigurd felt completely confident of his victory rather than just enjoying the sensation of a deathmatch.