Eva snorted before her fingertips fully drew her bow, and she fired three arrows.
They shot forth, their paths twisted in strange directions, and stabbed into three of the remaining wolves before the tips shone with a bluish colour, turning them into ice!
Three loud thuds echoed out after their bodies fell.
A few drops of sweat dripped down her forehead as she darted forward with light steps across the forest floor, tossing the bow towards Sigurd while grasping her spear and lunging towards the wolves.
Like a vicious beast, her glaive sliced through the flesh of these Apprentice-level wolves like paper, blood from their necks spurting across the beautiful grass and flora.
The last wolf survived, her glaive only tearing at its leg. Yet the wounded leg struggled to keep up, and it recoiled while taking a step back. A cracking sound echoed as the ice started forming from the cut, created by the thin blue line spread across her glaive.