Draconic Awakening

In the large cave of the jagged rocks terrain, one Ragnar had taken as a makeshift home, the notorious Ice Wendigo stood dominant like a crazed beast, in a desperate search for food.

And when its eyes finally stopped at Hagi's corpse, it snarled with satisfaction, hunger gleaming in its eyes.

The realm beast formed on all fours and hurried over to the corpse, reaching it with its fangs sinking deep into Hagi's gut with a sickening crunching sound, accompanied by the sound of flesh being torn apart.

Ragnar watched the ugly hound feast greedily on the body. It's now or never, he thought, quietly shifting from the spot he was in and moving towards the back of the Ice Wendigo.

He had considered throwing a flame ball at the beast, but that was stupid—highly stupid. Fire was the thing that started this entire scenario in the first place; another flicker of light might surely call more of the Wendigos.

And who knew how many of them existed in the jagged rocks terrain?

The idea of a grade one Wretchborn was still a scary thing—any human that entered the first realm would find reverence for it. But Ragnar held no fear; he only had a careful demeanor on his face as he closed the space between him and the Wendigo.

And then something wrong happened—very wrong.

The Ice Wendigo suddenly stopped gnawing at the body, and its head rose up quickly, ears visibly twitching.

Ragnar stopped his footing at this time and gulped, knowing what came next.

The Ice Wendigo rose up to a hunched stand, turning around and landing its bloodshot eyes on the young Lord.

It snarled angrily and launched forward with a deadly speed, swinging its claws at him.

"Shit!" Ragnar gritted his teeth and rolled out of the way of the attack, letting it miss him by a mere inch.

But by the time he was up once more, another attack came his way yet again.

The Wretchborn was far faster than he anticipated—not as fast as the one he faced earlier, but quite agile enough to give him problems dodging.

It attacked again and again, swinging its horrid long claws desperately at Ragnar's vitals in hopes of landing a fatal hit. However, Ragnar parried with his blade and dodged the attacks he could not block.

Thanks to the Arcane he had accumulated, the attacks from the Ice Wendigo seemed to be blocked perfectly. Nonetheless, the strength of the blows thrown by the Wendigo was strong and seemed to almost knock Ragnar's blade from his hands with each stroke. This led him to use both hands to tightly grasp his hilt.

The Ice Wendigo attacked out of madness and instinct, giving out many openings Ragnar could see but not take, since he was slower than the Wendigo. So he was patient, parrying every clawed attack and avoiding every one by the fanged attacks—barely.

With each passing second, attacks would get past his blocks and injure him—claws tearing through his shoulder, knees, and gut—but nothing fatal.

Ragnar kept his focus and continued to block the Wretchborn, despite how heavy his hands were starting to become.

And just as he waited, he finally saw the opening he had been waiting for. The Wendigo swung with more than its usual force, throwing its right claw with all its body weight at Ragnar.

The young Lord pulled his two hands closer to his body and sidestepped quickly, avoiding the attack—and for the first time in the battle, he got to the side of the Ice Wendigo and immediately made his move.

Planting his foot firmly into the ground, he plunged the tip of his blade into the gut of the Wendigo, making sure it went through until the guard was resting at the stomach of the beast.

The Ice Wendigo shrieked at the top of its lungs in pain, and immediately its eyes locked onto Ragnar in anger as it lashed out at him.

The attack was too fast and close for Ragnar to dodge, so he raised both hands up to his face to protect his gaze as the beast's hand struck at him.

The attack was strong, and the claws tore right into his flesh down to the bones, causing him to stagger a few feet back before regaining his footing.

The injuries on Ragnar's arm did not bother him much as he struggled to catch his breath, and surely it was nothing compared to that of the Ice Wendigo.

{Bleeding effect has occurred on the enemy}

"You got what you deserved, bastard."

The Ice Wendigo began to sway in its stance as blood poured immensely out of the gash in its gut. At first, it found it hard to retain its composure, growling softly for a bit, and then its face turned aggressive, and it locked eyes with Ragnar in rage.

It got on all fours and rushed to close the space between them to attack, but as its arms made contact with the floor, it immediately collapsed face-first to the ground—seemingly exhausted and much more pale than it usually was.

Ragnar had a small scowl on his face as he closed the distance between him and the beast. "Is it because you haven't had a meal in a long time? Probably you're low on blood, or—" Reaching the Ice Wendigo, Ragnar placed his right foot on its skull. As he did, it retaliated.

At least it tried to… raising its two hands just slightly before it went still.

"I guess the Bleeding Effect skill is just that lethal," Ragnar spoke his last words to the Ice Wendigo, and soon the system chimed in.

{You have killed a Grade One Wretchborn, Ice Wendigo}

{Arcane core: 6/500}

Seeing this, Ragnar had a small grin on his face. Then he went over to a side of the wall—specifically, the particular hiding spot that had concealed him against the Wendigo.

He sat there and folded into the cold a bit. He lingered for a while and stared at the two corpses on the floor in the cave with him. I have to get out of this place tomorrow as soon as possible.