NOVEL WEB Chapter 15: The Guardian of Argoth
Chapter 15: The Guardian of Argoth
The world seemed to have come to a halt. Faris still swayed, the echo of the howl of the giant wolf resonating in his ears, as the cold north wind cut across his face. The horizon, shrouded in thick mist, barely revealed the figure of the approaching beast. The White Wolf, once a predator of majestic intelligence, had become a corrupted creature, a shadow of what it once was, yet all the more fearsome. Its fur, as white as snow, billowed in the icy wind, and its mere presence paralyzed the soldiers on the walls.
Faris breathed with difficulty. He still felt the dizziness caused by the terrible howl, and blood continued to drip from his ears. The beast, standing ten meters tall, walked slowly but with undeniable ferocity. The wolf's paws left deep tracks in the snow, each step resonating like the crack of a giant tree falling. It was more than a monster; it was a living mountain.
Around him, the soldiers were frozen, not by the cold, but by fear. Some tried to reload their crossbows, but their hands trembled too much to be effective. Faris knew those weapons would be useless. Not even the precise shot that had brought down the first lesser beast could compare to the power of this creature. It was a force of nature, a predator from another era, now enveloped in the corruption of the Prana.
The situation seemed desperate. The air was thick with tension, and the cold burned the skin as if the very earth was rebelling against its defenders. Faris noticed Captain Brak approaching along the wall, accompanied by Dren and several other veteran soldiers. The captain's face was grim, and the runes on his armor glowed more intensely, struggling to fend off the cold.
—This goes beyond us —murmured Brak, watching the approaching giant wolf. His dark eyes revealed his recognition of the creature. Once, these predators were lords of the northern lands, intelligent beings as cunning as humans, but the corruption had degraded them to mere beasts. Dangerous beasts, but devoid of the intelligence that once distinguished them.
—We cannot face it alone! —Brak said, turning to Faris and Dren. —Go to the central tower and alert the Nascent Soul!
Faris and Dren exchanged quick glances, and without further ado, they dashed toward the interior of the fortress. Their footsteps echoed on the stone streets as they ran through the courtyard, dodging soldiers who were still trying to organize the defenses. Faris knew there was only one hope: Baldric. Without him, the fortress would fall to the fury of the corrupted wolf.
Upon reaching the central tower, two men of the rank of Golden Dan stopped them. The Vrak. These warriors, the elite of the fortress, stood as guardians—or rather, servants—of Baldric. Their shining white armor contrasted with the darkness of the night and the chaos unfolding around them.
—Captain Brak sent us —Dren said, breathing heavily. —The corrupted white wolf is approaching. We need to see Baldric.
One of the Vrak nodded, and without further words, led them inside the tower. They climbed the frozen stone stairs that seemed to stretch into the sky. Faris could barely feel his legs, but he knew he couldn't stop. The Nascent Soul was their only hope.
Finally, they reached the highest chamber. Baldric was there, standing next to a massive window, watching the frozen horizon. His presence dominated the room, and the air around him was charged with a cold, dense energy, as if winter itself emanated from his body. Ice covered the walls and floor, but it was not a natural cold. It was Baldric's Prana manifesting, tangible and powerful.
The Nascent Soul turned with an almost inhuman slowness, as if time itself bent before his presence. His white, wild hair fell over his shoulders, framing a face sculpted by the cold. Baldric's eyes, deep and icy, of such an intense blue that they seemed devoid of life, locked onto the two soldiers. Faris felt that gaze as if it were a physical burden, a weight settling in his chest and freezing his soul. It was as if the icy wind of the north had found a corporeal form, and its intensity did not stem from power but from the absolute indifference it projected.
—What is happening? —his voice slid through the air like distant thunder, vibrating in the bones of those present, reverberating against the glass walls of the tower. There was a cold resonance in it, an echo that needed no volume to assert itself. Each word was a reminder of the abyss that separated Baldric from mere mortals.
He seemed detached from the battle raging beyond the fortress, as if the cries of men and beasts had not crossed the invisible barriers surrounding him. But that was Baldric's nature, a demigod in human form, a being that transcended the earthly. To him, the constant struggle, the suffering, and the fear were insignificant, almost trivial. His gaze, his very existence, was beyond mundane life.
Faris felt a chill that did not come from the outside cold but from the relentless power of this man. Baldric was not merely a leader; he was a being that embodied the unyielding doctrine of the Empire: only through war were true soldiers forged, and only in the most extreme moments, when chaos touched the edge of the impossible, did beings like him become involved.
Before Baldric, Faris and Dren were nothing but shadows, their words and fears minuscule against the vastness of the Nascent Soul’s gaze. And yet, in that moment of overwhelming coldness, they knew they had invoked something beyond comprehension. Only at the extremes of power, when the Empire itself trembled, were these beings called forth, forged in war, born from a conflict that knew no mercy.
Before them, Baldric was winter personified—cold, distant, and utterly lethal. And now, with an overwhelming stillness, he had fixed his attention on what remained of the mortals at his feet.
Dren was the first to speak.
—Sir, the white wolf has been corrupted by the dark Prana. It is advancing toward the fortress. Captain Brak requests your intervention.
Baldric did not respond immediately. His eyes drifted to the window once more, watching the horizon where the giant wolf continued its slow advance, drawing ever closer. Then, he extended a hand, and the temperature in the room dropped even further.
—The corruption has not only touched these lands... —he murmured. And then, with a slow but determined motion, he placed his hand on the glass.
The air in the room changed again, this time more intensely. Faris felt how Baldric’s power filled every corner; his icy Prana emanated from him like a raging winter storm. Outside, the winds swirled, and the snow began to rise as a barrier against the wolf. But Baldric did not stop there.
He slowly raised his hand, as if the very earth bowed to his will. The air around him began to swirl in soft spirals, barely perceptible at first but growing more intense. The Prana, that ancient and icy energy, condensed in the atmosphere, lifting small gusts of snow that danced like spirits in a storm. The power radiating from him was palpable, charged with a cold determination that froze the bones of those witnessing it. Faris, from his position, could feel the world itself responding to the Nascent Soul, as if all the winter of the north concentrated in his being.
Before Baldric, the air began to solidify. What had initially been a light frozen mist gradually took shape. The Prana compacted with impossible precision, forming a spear of ice. It was not a mere projectile but a colossal creation of titanic proportions that seemed to absorb the very cold of the environment. As it formed, it shone with a bluish light, almost ghostly, and the atmosphere trembled around it, as if it feared the power about to be unleashed.
But it was not merely a physical formation; there was something more. Baldric's will, his unyielding determination, was engraved in that spear, turning it into an extension of his own soul. The air crackled with the weight of his decision, and energy gathered at the tip, vibrating with a hunger for impact, for penetration, for destruction. The cutting cold of the Prana not only shaped the ice but infused it with a clear and deadly purpose.
The beast that had challenged the fortress, once a being of intelligence and strength, now faced a force that transcended mere mortality. The white wolf, corrupted by dark energies, seemed to sense the threat in the air. Its eyes shone with a flash of fury and fear, as if, for a moment, the old intelligence it had lost tried to warn it of the fate that awaited.
Baldric, in complete silence, slightly inclined his body, and at that moment, the world seemed to tighten around him, like the cord of a catapult on the verge of breaking. Every muscle, every fiber of his being was aligned with a single goal: to launch that spear with a force and speed that no siege weapon could equal. The air seemed to freeze for an eternal second, and then, in a single explosive motion, the spear was released.
The speed at which the spear sliced through the sky surpassed anything Faris had ever witnessed. The world itself opened in its wake, as if even nature stepped aside before such power. The wind howled behind the spear, and the ice it was composed of shone with a chilling, blinding light as it left a trail behind it. The sky split with a thunderous roar, and for an instant, everything else fell silent. Nothing could withstand that unstoppable force.
The wolf, in its desperation, attempted to move. Its survival instincts, honed by centuries of hunting and predation, drove it to react just in time. The spear, aimed at its head, found its mark an instant too late, piercing the beast's side instead of its skull. A flash, quick and lethal, coursed through the wolf’s body as the icy spear penetrated it. The impact was so violent that the ground beneath the predator trembled, and a roar of pain and rage reverberated throughout the valley.
The beast staggered, its giant paws sinking into the snow, and for a moment, it seemed that its enormous body would collapse. The glow of Baldric’s Prana still vibrated in the spear, which remained embedded in the side of the predator, as if nature itself refused to release it. Yet, despite being gravely injured, the wolf did not fall. Its will, though corrupted, kept it standing.
In that fleeting moment, Baldric’s superiority had imposed itself. But the beast, with a ferocity that even defied death, turned and fled, leaving a trail of blood on the snow.
Faris watched as the gigantic silhouette of the wolf disappeared into the mist and the storm. His heart raced, and the relief mixed with astonishment left him speechless. He knew that the threat was not over, but at least, for now, Argoth had endured.
The Nascent Soul slowly lowered his hand, gazing at the horizon with his cold stare.
—The corruption has reached the north... but this is just the beginning.