Chapter 27: Press Impact

The battalion finally took a brief rest after hours of non-stop combat. The sun filtered through the thick canopy above, casting speckled light across blood-stained soil and broken branches. Though they had defeated numerous beasts, confusion lingered among the soldiers.

"Leader," one of the younger soldiers muttered, sweat rolling down his dirt-smudged face. "How long do we need to keep hunting? We haven't seen a single Troilo since those riders… it feels like we're wandering aimlessly."

Alex, leaning against a mossy trunk, gave a faint sigh but maintained a calm tone. "Be patient. We've got time—and if they're hiding, we'll flush them out eventually."

Stillness crept into the forest like a creeping mist. A silence too unnatural. Not a single bird chirped. No rustle of creatures beneath the underbrush. Just wind—and unease.

Most of the soldiers failed to notice the change. But Pyro, his hand resting on the hilt of his greatsword, narrowed his eyes. The battalion commanders shifted uncomfortably. Veterans knew when the quiet wasn't just quiet—it was a warning.

"I need scouts," Pyro said suddenly, his voice commanding. "Four will do. I want the area checked. Look for any signs of monsters—especially Troilo. Volunteers?"

Murmurs rippled through the group, but no hands rose. Not from fear, but fatigue. Their armor was dented, their shields heavy, and the forest's oppressive air seemed to sap their strength.

Ashen, however, saw the moment for what it was—a chance to stand out.

"I'll go," he said without hesitation, stepping forward.

Pyro gave him a nod. "Good."

Three more followed, inspired by Ashen's boldness. Pyro gave final instructions: "Scout your assigned direction—North, South, East, and West. Do not engage. If you find Troilo, return immediately."

Ashen was assigned to the North.

The trees thickened as he ventured deeper. Leaves rustled under his boots. A faint animalistic growl reached his ears. Hiding behind a large, twisted tree root, Ashen spotted them.

A dozen Troilo Hunters—lean, muscular simian creatures with crude wooden armor and bone weapons—were preparing their Dire Wolves. They looked like they were gearing for a hunt.

Ashen's eyes narrowed. "That's no random patrol. That's a planned strike team."

Without hesitation, he retreated and raced back to camp.

"Leader!" he called out. "North. Troilo riders. At least twenty. Preparing to move."

"Well done," Pyro said calmly. "We're heading north. Move out."

Just as they were preparing to advance, a low, guttural howl echoed through the forest. Branches snapped. Leaves shook.

Another pack of Dire Wolves surged from the trees—at least thirty this time, nearly double the force from before.

"Square Formation!" Pyro bellowed.

The soldiers locked shields in a practiced rhythm, forming a hollow square with spear users at the corners and archers inside the perimeter. Unlike before, they now stood with grim focus. They knew what was coming.

But this time, Pyro didn't leap forward. He crossed his arms, watching from a raised slope.

"Let's see what you've learned."

The Dire Wolves slammed into the formation like a tidal wave of fangs and muscle. Shields cracked. Spears rattled. The front line groaned under the monstrous weight.

Alex shouted above the chaos. "Hold! Just a few seconds more!"

Ashen, however, refused to remain passive.

He dashed forward from the rear flank, gripping the hilt of his Damascus Blade. A massive Dire Wolf lunged at him—teeth flashing, eyes bloodshot.

Ashen rolled to the side, pivoted, and delivered a slash to its throat.

-110 (Critical Strike!)

The wolf howled in agony, blood spraying across the grass.

Ashen didn't stop. He followed with a wide arc of his sword, cleaving clean through its skull.

Vital Strike!

-190 (Critical Strike!)

DING!

You have learned a new active skill:

[ Press Impact ]

Channel overwhelming strength into a downward strike.

Damage: +80%

Mana Cost: 20

Cooldown: 2 Minutes

The soldiers near him froze, momentarily stunned by the sheer brutality of Ashen's assault. Even Alex paused mid-command. A few of the recruits stared at Ashen in awe.

But Pyro… merely narrowed his eyes.

"He's not bad," he muttered. "But raw strength alone won't be enough…"

Ashen, breathing heavily, glanced around. The Dire Wolves were still pressing in, but the soldiers were no longer overwhelmed. Confidence surged through the ranks. The front lines held, spears piercing wolf hides. Arrows from within the formation found their marks.

And above them all, Pyro watched, silently calculating.

In the aftermath, over two dozen Dire Wolves lay dead. The survivors fled into the shadows, tails tucked between their legs.

Ashen stood among the corpses, his blade dripping, eyes locked ahead.

He didn't see Pyro watching him from the ridge. But the Black Knight was now paying very close attention.

.