Chapter 28: Ancient Troilo

DING!

You gained 120 Experience Points.

Ashen blinked as the familiar blue system prompt faded from his vision. He exhaled slowly, chest rising and falling with the rush of adrenaline. His blade, slick with the blood of the slain Dire Wolf, hummed faintly in his grasp—almost as if it too acknowledged the power he had just unleashed.

"So this is what it means to fight with intent," Ashen whispered, eyes burning with focus.

The air still stank of blood and beast fur. But there was no time to admire his work. Another wolf lunged at a nearby spearman who had dropped to one knee, exhausted and nearly disarmed.

Ashen surged forward.

-80 Hit Points!

-77 Hit Points!

-110 (Critical Strike!)

His blade danced through the air, a blur of steel and spirit. He twisted, pivoted, and cleaved downward with a roar. The last Dire Wolf at the front line collapsed under the weight of Ashen's precise execution. The soldiers behind him could barely believe their eyes.

A sudden silence settled over the battlefield.

The front line—once overwhelmed—now had breathing room. The tide had turned. Momentum surged like a wave through the battalion, and with renewed confidence, they charged the remaining wolves attacking from the flanks. Victory came quickly.

Pyro remained perched on a stone ledge, eyes narrowed beneath his black hood. He gave Ashen a nod of silent approval.

He's not just enthusiastic. He adapts. Fast.

But there was no time for rest.

From deeper in the forest came the echoing thunder of monstrous movement—howls, shrieks, and the rumble of trampling beasts. The earth trembled beneath their feet.

"Prepare to march forward!" Pyro called, his voice cold and firm. "We rest after this next fight. If we stop now, we'll be swallowed whole. The enemy is planning something."

The battalion, though tired, trusted him. Their formation reassembled and pushed onward.

A few kilometers later, the trees thinned—and what they found stunned them.

A crude outpost stretched out in the clearing. Wooden shacks built from scavenged logs and animal hide stood in rows, like a feral village. Smoke curled from makeshift chimneys. Spiked barricades lined the perimeter. Dozens of Troilo Hunters walked in patrol, armed with long, sharpened sticks and bone-crafted weapons.

More alarming were the Dire Wolves tied to post-huts or ridden by the Troilo, behaving like trained war mounts.

But that wasn't all.

Ashen's sharp eyes scanned the area. Several different kinds of Troilo were present—some smaller and agile, others large and hunched, with jagged bone armor and tribal markings etched into their skin.

"Thin Red Line Formation!" Pyro barked.

The soldiers quickly adjusted, spreading into two tight ranks. The front was all shields and spears—hard and ready. Behind them, archers and casters took position.

This was the formation for when you were outnumbered and low on energy. It traded width for firepower—designed to funnel enemy charges and rain death from behind the wall.

"Archers! Loose!"

A rain of arrows filled the air—steel-tipped shafts laced with flame, poison, and mana. They hissed down like angry stars.

The Troilo reacted with confusion and panic. Several were slain instantly. Others screamed and ran in random directions. Dire Wolves snarled and broke their tethers.

Ashen observed it all from behind the front line, but something didn't feel right. He scanned further—

Boom. Boom.

The ground trembled. The trees to the north split as two monstrous beings emerged.

They were massive—at least eight feet tall—covered in sinewy muscle, thick fur, and ancient tribal tattoos glowing faintly red. Each wielded massive bone clubs and moved with purpose and fury.

[ TRIPLE ] – Ancient Troilo

Level: 20

HP: 1,500 / 1,500

Physical Attack: 95

Skills: (Heavy Kick), (Evading Intuition)

[ FROKE ] – Ancient Troilo

Level: 20

HP: 1,500 / 1,500

Physical Attack: 95

Skills: (Heavy Kick), (Evading Intuition)

Ancient Troilo. The original breed—beasts from pre-historic records. Larger, faster, and smarter than their descendants. Not quite boss-level, but every bit as dangerous in group combat.

Behind them, more Troilo Hunters mounted on Dire Wolves began to form ranks. Their guttural war cries echoed like a drumbeat of doom.

Ashen clenched his blade. "This… this won't be a regular skirmish. This is war."

The soldiers stood frozen for a heartbeat. The sheer size and presence of the Ancient Troilo inspired dread. But Pyro's voice shattered the fear.

"STAND FAST!" he roared. "The enemy wants you to fear them. Don't give them that satisfaction."

Alex stepped forward, calm and resolved. "Front line—lock shields!"

And then it began.

Froke came first, leaping into the air with terrifying agility. He raised one leg, channeling raw power.

"Heavy Kick!"

The air cracked as his foot descended like a hammer toward a young soldier.

But—

CLANG!

Alex intercepted it mid-air with his sword, both feet planted firm in the ground. The impact forced a shockwave outward, blowing dust and grass in all directions. Yet Alex didn't move an inch.

Gasps erupted from the battalion.

"H-he blocked it…!"

Meanwhile, Triple lunged at the left flank. One of the battalion commanders—Captain Rhogar, a half-orc with a tower shield—met him head-on.

Steel and bone collided. Sparks flew.

Ashen gritted his teeth. "If they break through… it's over."

He wasn't going to wait.

He sprinted toward the right side of the formation, flanking Froke.

"[Press Impact]!"

Ashen's blade glowed with raw force as he leapt and brought it down toward Froke's back.

-212 (Critical!)

The beast roared, staggering, and turned with unexpected speed.

"Evading Intuition!"

Froke ducked the follow-up strike and swept his club.

Ashen flipped backward, narrowly avoiding the hit. He's fast. Too fast.

But he wasn't alone.

The archers continued firing, targeting the enemy riders. More Troilo fell. Dire Wolves buckled under flaming arrows.

Alex and Rhogar held firm against the Ancients.

And Ashen… kept pushing forward.

The battle was only beginning.