A Direwolf was sprinting at the forefront.
Its fur was black and sharp as steel, eyes glowing as though there were green flames burning in their sockets, and the wolf looked like a creature that was born from hell. Claws gleamed as paws shuffled and dashed madly across the withered leaves on the ground.
The soldiers’ gazes could not catch up with the wolves’ speed, only to see them darting across the hills and valleys. All their fired arrows did not reach the wolves as they seemingly managed to avoid every one of them.
The officers could only watch the monsters come closer and closer. They ordered the soldiers to lower and ready their spears, but the rows of nobles’ private soldiers under the Kruss Region instead moved back.
A wave seemed to oscillate across their formation.
Lord Kruss and his knights wielded their longswords to fight the wolves, but these Wolves of Calamity were ultimately the nightmares that plagued these citizens and their ancestors who lived in the forest for generations.
The shadows that lurked in the forest was the infamous legendary omen that swallowed everything and signified the end of days—
The knights had pale faces.
“Why are these damn things here!” Lord Kruss cursed aloud.
His men were still keeping in formation, but the highlanders were much more fearful of the legend. Several tribes in the rear secretly retreated, while those in the front fell into confusion. The horrific tales they grew up listening to were going to happen to them, and even their bravest warriors started removing their heavy armor in fright, prepared to run away.
The men could only watch the wolves sprint towards their formation. The archers continued to shoot their projectiles at them without any effect as they came closer and closer, and the distance was less than a hundred paces. Lord Kruss was a Gold-ranker, and his eyesight was keen enough to see that the seemingly soft fur bounced off the arrows.
The lord from the Grey Bears region was a cunning opportunist who could not be relied on, therefore he could not be relied on for assistance.
Lord Kruss could only order his soldiers to advance. He lived in the southern borders long enough to know that humans could not outrun these wolves. Even horses were no different.
The forest air was chilling to the bone, but what was even colder was the chill within their minds, seemingly freezing the soldiers’ ability to breathe. There were only several hundred black wolves, but their speed was so fast that they seemed to move in a blur, giving the illusion that there were infinite numbers. The soldiers’ hands had perspiration and their sword hilts felt slippery.
A figure suddenly dashed out from the trees on horseback.
At first, Lord Kruss thought it was one of his scouts ahead running away from the wolves, but he quickly dispelled the thought. It was a youth who peered at him f
Click here to report chapter errors,After the report, the editor will correct the chapter content within two minutes, please be patient.