A Dothan warrior, clad in thick, fur-padded attire rushed forward and dropped to one knee before Zilpah. “Commander, judging by the depths of their footprints, they are just two days away. We should go after them.”
Zilpah raised an eyebrow, her expression contemplative. Although she felt the itch to chase, capture and hand Kryos’s vessel over to her brother—the chief of the Kratos Freeman clan. Yet, a sliver of apprehension for his strength tempered her desire. At least from what she had seen, Kryos was already a force to reckon with.
And they were on Edom’s soil. In no time, Edom would send troops after them if they took any rash steps. To succeed, they needed to take control of the fortress and buy time till their main army arrived. Only then would it be the right moment to hunt down Kryos’s vessel.
Zilpah licked her lips and grinned. “Let them run. The time for the hunt will definitely come.”
As descendants of the long-extinct giants of the glorious age, Zilpah and her warriors possessed an unnatural bloodlust for other races, especially humans, whom they mockingly referred to as ‘soft skins.’
Along with their bloodlust, they also had abnormal strength. Though Zilpah had a slim womanly body filled with contours of muscles, her strength was beyond her looks and that was the reason why the 3000 Dothan warriors—most towering over seven feet tall—bowed on their knees to her.
Not long after they seized the fortress, another scout, tall and wiry, standing 7.1 feet tall, walked into the hall and bowed before her.
“Commander, the Edomites have assembled an army. They are marching toward this fortress as we speak.”
“That was faster than expected,” Zilpah shrugged. “Send a message to the chief. Tell him that what we have heard about Kryos’ rebirth is the truth… Kryos has once again proven how tenacious he is by manifesting in the body of another human almost a thousand years after his last appearance.”
The scout nodded. “I shall see to it personally.”
As Zilpah watched the scout leave, her thoughts swirled. ‘Oh Kryos, what a pitiful soul. You have returned to a world that no longer needs your unification. We no longer need you as a lord, not even those stuck-up faires of Cyrenia would be glad to hear of your return and… And after 3000 years, you must have been severely weakened. The Kryos now can never be the first and true Kryos. You are but a shadow of the original.’
Her crimson eyes gleamed.
“We still need your strength to achieve what we want though,” she murmured, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. The man she mocked was someone who once made the giants, the dragons, the ancient dwarves, the celestial fairies, the magnificent elves and the straightforward beastmen bow at his feet.
Unfortunately, his absence for so long had made the races grow accustomed to ruling and warring against themselves.
“I’ll personally wrap a chain around his neck and he’ll follow me like a guard dog. That looks like a nice future,” Zilpah laughed, her melodious voice echoing against the stone walls of the hall.
All of a sudden, she stopped laughing. “With Kryos as our battle slave, we would be able to build a powerful kingdom capable of rivalling Cyrenia. Losing their daughter shouldn’t be the only bad news for that imperial fairy household… They should also know about Kryos.”
While Zilpah schemed, the scout stepped out of the fortress doors, his force producing a fog around him. In the next moment, the fog was blasted away by a mighty wind, revealing a falcon.
With a soft cry, it soared into the sky and flew away. ‘Kryos… the man with the snow wolf from the tales is actually back?’
The falcon’s eyes shook as it gazed at the ruined Eden from above.
_____
Lord Winter, Isaac, Naomi and Anderson stood outside the castle walls, watching as paladins marched in with hundreds of freed slaves. When people saw them, they rushed toward the slaves. Some reunited with their long-lost family members, tears flowing freely as they embraced. Others, still searching for their loved ones, called out names with desperate hope.
Yet, there were those among the former slaves who stood adrift, their years in Edom’s chains having stolen away any family or familiarity. They simply stared at the crowd, lost, with no one to welcome them.
“Take a look at those men grandly covered in cloaks. They’re the finest soldiers I’ve seen in a century.” Anderson said softly, his eyes locked on the paladins.
Isaac smiled softly while Naomi frowned. “He should return our men to us before he leaves for his territory.”
Isaac raised a brow. “What?”
Naomi turned to him, her voice firm. “Those men have families here. Their loyalty and lives are tied to this stronghold. Are we really going to cut them off from their homeland?”
Lord Winter chuckled softly. “No.”
“Good.” Relief flickered across Naomi’s face and she smiled.
But the next words from Lord Winter wiped it away. “The home of those men is wherever Achilles decides.”
Her expression twisted into one of anger and disbelief.
“It’s high time you stop fighting him, Naomi,” Lord Winter said gently.
Naomi frowned. “I am fighting for the good of our people.” She clenched her teeth.
“I have seen your death, Naomi…” Lord Winter glanced at her with a concerned expression. It was the look of a father to a daughter, the look of a man who knew the end of Naomi’s path.
The words fell like a hammer, and the three of them—Isaac, Anderson and Naomi—froze their eyes wide.
“W… What?”
Lord Winter had a talent that all of them dreaded. Though his talent had no combat ability, it allowed him to glimpse into the future of any being, man or beast. Sometimes, he could see their very end or what they would become in the distant or not-so-distant future.
Lord Winter looked at Asher who was currently walking toward them. As he gazed at Asher, his pupils contracted and his talent subconsciously activated.
At that moment, he saw a man with long snow-white hair that reached half of his back. He had a well-trimmed beard and a sharp jawline.
His deep, piercing eyes bore into his soul while being clad in pitch black with a distinct wolf pauldron on his right shoulder.
Vambraces and steel covered boots and three swords hung ominously on him.
At his right hip, Euodais rested in its sheath, while another sword with a handle that seemed like it was dipped in blood. A longsword was strapped to his back.
Each of these swords exuded a power that made Lord Winter’s very soul shiver.
In addition to that, this man’s aura packed so much weight that it drove Lord Winter to his knees, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
As the man approached, blood began to seep down Lord Winter’s eyes, staining his cheeks as he helplessly watched this wolf of a man approach with slow, deliberate steps.