Forged By Falcrest

Atlas pulled his sword from the sheath on his back, the cold metal a reassuring weight in his hand. The blade, sleek and curved, reflected the pale light of the snow, almost shimmering against the backdrop of the forest. He adjusted his stance, lowering his body slightly to keep his movements fluid, his golden eyes flicking between the dark shapes moving through the trees.

Beside him, Kara stepped closer to Marcus, her twin daggers gleaming in her hands. She was quiet, but her posture was steady, her black hair framing a face set with determination. Small ripples of water formed at her back, and as Atlas glanced at her, the liquid coalesced into tentacle-like appendages, shifting and writhing as if alive. They didn't seem strong, but they moved with surprising precision, adding an unsettling layer to her already unpredictable presence.

Marcus stood tall, his broad shoulders squared and his fists raised in a practiced stance. His breath came out in even puffs of mist as he cracked his neck, his muscles taut and ready. A flicker of orange light ignited at his knuckles, flames licking up his hands as he clenched his fists. He exuded confidence, his sharp dark eyes scanning their surroundings.

Then they appeared.

Six wolves emerged from the shadows of the forest, their low growls reverberating through the trees. Their silver-gray coats blended with the snow, but their glowing yellow eyes and sharp, bared teeth left no question about their intent. They moved in a deliberate, predatory circle, their paws crunching softly on the snow as they tightened their formation.

Atlas's heart pounded in his chest. The wolves were massive, easily reaching up to his waist, their powerful limbs rippling with muscle. This wasn't just a training exercise—this was survival. But despite the fear gnawing at the edges of his mind, he forced himself to focus.

"This is nothing we can't handle," Marcus said, his voice steady. "Stay together. Don't let them isolate you."

Atlas nodded, his pulse still hammering in his ears. This was why he trained, why he pushed himself past his limits every day. So that when it mattered—when his life and the lives of others were on the line—he would be ready.

The wolves didn't wait. The largest of them lunged first, targeting Marcus. It moved like a blur, but Marcus stepped forward, meeting it with a flaming fist. His punch connected with the wolf's side, sending it skidding across the snow with a pained yelp. The fire left scorch marks on its fur, and it scrambled to its feet, snarling with renewed fury.

Atlas barely had time to process the movement before one of the wolves lunged at him, its jaws snapping toward his throat. He sidestepped instinctively, his sword coming up in a sharp arc. The blade cut into the wolf's shoulder, digging deep, and it let out a pained howl. It staggered but didn't retreat, its blood staining the pristine snow.

Atlas pressed the attack, stepping forward with a percussive strike from the Falcrest Sword Art. He used his momentum to drive a kick into the wolf's side, sending it tumbling to the ground. It tried to rise, its movements sluggish, but Atlas brought his sword down in a finishing blow, his blade cut into the wolves neck, blood sprayed out, making him think he must have hit an artery. The wolf collapsed, motionless.

Before he could catch his breath, another wolf sprang at him from his blind spot. He turned just in time to block with his sword, but the force of the impact knocked the blade from his hands. It hit the soft snow several feet away, leaving him weaponless. The wolf's claws raked across his arm, tearing through his bandaged sleeve and drawing blood. Atlas hissed in pain, stumbling back as the wolf circled him, its growl deep and menacing.

He raised his fists, shifting into a defensive stance as the wolf charged again. He ducked beneath its snapping jaws and drove a punch into its side, but it barely seemed to notice. It turned on him with terrifying speed, its teeth grazing his leg as he leapt back, his movements growing more desperate. His body screamed in protest, and he knew he couldn't keep this up for long. He stepped back and calmed his breathing. The wolf circled him and he dropped into a fighting stance, remembering all the gruiling hours in his room late at night practicing.

The wolf snarled, its yellow eyes locked onto Atlas as it lunged forward again, its massive paws crunching the snow beneath it. Atlas sidestepped, narrowly avoiding its snapping jaws, and retaliated with a swift punch to the side of its head. His fist connected with a dull thud, but the wolf barely flinched, shaking its head as if annoyed rather than hurt.

Atlas cursed under his breath, his mind racing. His strikes weren't landing with enough force. He didn't have the raw power Marcus had shown earlier when he had taken down his wolf with a flaming fist. Falcrest sword art focused on precision and percussive movements, but against a creature like this, it felt like trying to chip away at a boulder with a stick.

The wolf growled, shaking off the blow and circling him, its muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. Atlas adjusted his stance, keeping his weight low and his hands up. He needed to think, to find a way to turn the fight in his favor. But the wolf wasn't giving him time.

It charged again, its claws ripping into the frozen ground as it closed the distance in an instant. Atlas ducked, rolling to the side as the wolf's jaws snapped shut where his neck had been moments before. He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline surging through his veins. He needed to stay on the move, to use his speed and agility to outmaneuver the beast.

As the wolf turned to face him again, Atlas stepped forward and aimed a powerful kick at its side. His boot connected with a satisfying thud, and the wolf staggered slightly, letting out a low growl. But the momentary stumble wasn't enough. The wolf was relentless, and it recovered almost instantly, baring its teeth as it lunged once more.

Atlas raised his arms instinctively, the wolf's weight slamming into him like a battering ram. He stumbled backward, his boots skidding in the snow as he struggled to keep his balance. The wolf's claws raked across his forearms, tearing through the thick fabric of his training gear and leaving shallow scratches. He gritted his teeth against the pain, shoving against the creature with all his strength.

But the wolf was stronger. It forced him back step by step until his foot caught on a loose rock, and he fell hard onto his back, the impact driving the air from his lungs. The world tilted for a moment as he struggled to catch his breath, the wolf looming over him like a shadow of death.

Its hot breath hit his face as it snarled, its teeth bared and dripping with saliva. Atlas tried to twist away, but the wolf's massive paws pinned him down, its claws digging into his shoulders. He could feel the weight of the beast pressing against him, its growls vibrating in his chest.

His mind raced, panic threatening to take over. He clawed at the snow, his hand fumbling for his sword, but it was out of reach, lying several feet away where it had been knocked from his grip earlier. Desperation clawed at him as the wolf's jaws opened wide, its teeth gleaming in the fading light.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. The growls of the wolf, the distant sounds of Kara and Marcus fighting their own battles, the sting of the icy wind on his face—it all blurred into the background. All that mattered was the snarling beast above him and the cold, hard realization that he might not get out of this alive.

The wolf lunged down, its teeth aiming for his throat, and Atlas raised his arm in a desperate attempt to block the attack, bracing himself for the worst.

Marcus's flaming fist collided with the wolf's head, sending it sprawling to the ground. Marcus stepped forward, landing another devastating punch that left the wolf limp in the snow with its head caved in a funny angle.

"You good?" Marcus asked, his eyes never leaving the wolf as he watched for any signs of movement.

Atlas nodded, gripping his injured arm. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Focus," Marcus said sharply, already turning back to face the remaining wolves.

Atlas staggered back to his sword, gripping the hilt tightly as he assessed the battlefield. Kara was locked in combat with two wolves, her water tentacles lashing out with surprising agility. They acted as extensions of her arms, blocking bites and claw swipes while her daggers darted in and out. She moved with precision, her strikes calculated and efficient, but the tentacles lacked the strength to do significant damage. She used them to distract and control the wolves' movements while her blades did the real work.

With a well-timed feint, Kara drew one of the wolves too close. Her tentacle wrapped around its hind leg, pulling it off balance just long enough for her to drive a dagger into its throat. The wolf let out a final whimper before collapsing. The second wolf lunged at her, but she sidestepped gracefully, her tentacles wrapping around its neck and forcing it down. She finished it with a swift strike, her expression calm despite the blood staining the snow around her.

Marcus, meanwhile, had no need for subtlety. His fists were a blur of fire and fury as he engaged the last wolve in front of him. Each punch landed with bone-crushing force, the flames scorching fur and flesh alike. The wolve lunged at him, only to be met with an uppercut that sent it flying. He walked forward and stomped on the whimpering wolves head.

The fight ended as quickly as it began. The wolves lay scattered in the snow, their once-menacing forms now lifeless. The forest fell silent again, the only sound the labored breathing of the three students.

Atlas wiped the blood from his sword, his arm throbbing from the shallow claw marks. He looked at Marcus and Kara, both of whom were battered but standing tall.

"Everyone okay?" Marcus asked, his gaze sweeping over them.

"Fine," Kara said, her voice steady despite her disheveled appearance.

Atlas nodded, sheathing his sword. His heart was still racing, the adrenaline coursing through him making his limbs tremble. He'd survived, but it was clear how much further he had to go, he knew if he had to fight either of these two he wouldn't win.

"Let's keep moving," Marcus said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We're not done yet."

Kara quickly knelt beside Atlas, her movements precise as she pulled a small roll of bandages from one of the pouches on her belt. Her hands were steady, despite the faint tremor in her breathing from the fight. "Hold still," she muttered, unrolling the bandage and wrapping it tightly around the claw marks on his arm.

Atlas winced but didn't complain. The cuts weren't deep, but they stung like fire, and the cold air didn't help. He watched as Kara worked, her dark hair falling over her face. She didn't say much, and he appreciated the quiet efficiency. "Thanks," he said softly when she tied the bandage off.

"Don't mention it," she replied, standing and tucking the remaining bandages back into her pouch. "Let's not make this a habit."

Marcus was already ahead, scanning the path that wound higher into the mountains. "We need to go," he called over his shoulder, his voice firm. "The sun's already starting to dip."

Atlas glanced at the horizon, where the golden light was beginning to fade, casting long shadows over the snow-covered landscape. He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the ache in his legs and the dull throb in his arm. "Let's go," he said, tightening his scarf pulling it up over his burn.

The three of them pressed on. The forest thinned out as they climbed, the towering pines giving way to jagged rocks and icy slopes. The air grew colder, each breath burning in their lungs as they trudged upward.

Kara took the lead this time, her sharp eyes scanning the uneven terrain for the best path forward. Marcus followed closely behind, his broad shoulders cutting through the biting wind. Atlas brought up the rear, his steps steady despite the exhaustion that weighed on him.

The climb was grueling. The snow grew deeper, sucking at their boots and slowing their progress. Loose rocks threatened to give way beneath their feet, forcing them to move carefully. The icy wind howled around them, stinging their faces and making it hard to see. Every step was a struggle, but none of them complained. They simply pushed forward, one foot in front of the other.

The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Shadows stretched across the mountain, and the temperature plummeted further. Atlas's breath came in sharp, frosty bursts as he focused on the trail ahead, his mind blank except for the simple goal of reaching the top.

"We're close," Marcus said, his voice rough from the cold. He pointed to a rocky outcrop ahead, where the trail seemed to level out. "That has to be it."

The words gave them a renewed sense of urgency. They quickened their pace, ignoring the burning in their muscles. The final stretch was the hardest, the slope so steep that they had to use their hands to pull themselves up in places.

Finally, they reached the summit just as the sun sank below the horizon, leaving the sky bathed in the soft glow of twilight. The air was bitterly cold, and the wind whipped around them, but the view was breathtaking. The mountain stretched out beneath them, a sea of snow and jagged peaks fading into the distance.

Standing near the edge of the summit was a figure clad in dark, weathered leathers. The Nightblade waiting for them didn't move as they approached, their silhouette sharp against the fading light.

"We made it," Kara said, her voice soft but filled with relief.

"Barely," Marcus added, his breath fogging in the icy air.

Atlas didn't say anything. He just stood there, his chest heaving as he took in the scene. Despite the exhaustion, the pain, and the cold, a small flicker of pride burned in his chest. They had done it.

The Nightblade finally turned to face them, their expression hidden by the shadows. "You're almost to late," they said, their voice calm but firm. "But you're here. That's what matters."

Atlas exchanged a glance with Marcus and Kara. A smile tugged at his lips.