The pristine, fluffy snow rapidly washed in thick blood and black trails of char. The dry wooden houses of the outpost caught fire instantly - there was no time to put them out, nor was there anyone to do so. In a matter of minutes, the quiet, peaceful village filled with desperate screams, the crackle of flames, and the dull clashing of steel. The outpost guards fought desperately to push back the attackers, but the northern barbarians were vastly stronger, more destructive, and far more experienced. Each of them seemed nearly a head taller than the tallest warrior of the town.

The very first thought that flashed through Isaac Grant’s mind, once he instantly gauged the scale of the breach, was of Adelissa. The girl could be right in the very epicenter of this bloody slaughter at this exact moment.

The knight charged forward, fresh snow crunching loudly beneath his boots. On his path, Isaac cut down every barbarian who came within reach with a cold-blooded, years-honed precision - the wild men didn't even have time to offer a worthy defense or block his lightning-fast thrusts. But Adelissa was nowhere to be seen.

“Get back!” roared Adrian Fornweir.

He hadn't held a sword for a good fifteen years, and his unaccustomed body was utterly unprepared for real combat. His ribs on the left side felt broken with a sharp crack - every breath resonated as a agonizing, piercing flare of pain. Adrian moved heavily, barely withstanding the wild onslaught of his opponent.

Which certainly could not be said for his opponent. The barbarian before him was terrifyingly powerful, his fierce face carved with deep scars. Just moments ago, he had sent Adrian flying straight into a nearby stone wall with a heavy spiked pommel of his club. It was at that exact moment that Fornweir had lost sight of his wife and daughter.

One of Adrian’s eyes was completely flooded with hot blood from a split brow.

“You... die!” Khaituu rasped in broken speech with a cruel, bloodthirsty smirk.

He raised his massive club high, intending to shatter Adrian’s skull in a single blow.

On sheer stubbornness alone, Fornweir threw himself to the side at the very last second with what little strength he had left. The heavy weapon clipped his shin with a crunch, splintering the bone. Adrian merely grit his teeth as hard as he could to keep from roaring in wild, paralyzing agony.

And in that split-second moment, he saw his daughter.

By some miracle, Adelissa had scrambled onto the high roof of an administrative building that was already fully engulfed in licks of flame. What was far more terrifying, however, was that a second wild man was scrambling up the beams right behind her.

The girl tried frantically to leap to an adjacent structure, but the rotting planks beneath her feet caved in with a loud crack. Adelissa lost her footing, her body tumbling down until it slammed with a muffled cry straight into a deep pile of snow at the base of the wall.

“Del...” a desperate, hoarse groan tore from her father’s chest.

Isaac Grant delivered a single strike. Lightning-fast and merciless, it hit the attacker’s exposed back with a sickening crunch. That should have been enough. And yet...

Khaituu merely roared fiercely from the piercing pain and spun sharply toward his new opponent. The barbarian brought his heavy club high for a crushing strike, but Grant ducked under the swing with ease, slipping behind his back once more and severing the giant’s head cleanly from his shoulders with a second sliding stroke of his blade.

Khaituu’s headless corpse collapsed into the bloodstained snow with a dull thud.

Without wasting a second, Grant turned to the bleeding Fornweir and yanked him up under his arms, helping him to his feet.

“Where is she?!”

“Fell... off the building... behind us,” Adrian rasped, breathing heavily, pointing around the corner.

Spinning around, the knight saw Adelissa desperately trying to stand up in a deep snowdrift. She seemed to have badly sprained her ankle in the fall.

Isaac didn't hesitate for a single instant.

With a deafening whistle, his steel blade flashed directly over the frozen Adelissa’s head and drove straight through a barbarian’s chest with a dull impact.

Leaping over in the blink of an eye, the knight scooped the girl up into his arms and easily tossed her over his shoulder, wrenching her out from under the falling body of the wild man.

“A tough opponent I ended up with...” Felix von Allen remarked with a faint, slightly weary smile, trying to catch his ragged breath.

His thin, delicate sword could by no means pierce the multi-layered armor leather and stiff fur of the attacking barbarian. Delivering a precise thrust into unprotected vulnerable points had proven impossible - his opponent pressed on with untamed fury.

“You’re clearly not from around here, are you?” Allen asked casually, dodging another broad strike.

The barbarian offered no answer. He merely let out a deafening roar, stepping forward like a wild beast.

Felix unleashed another lightning-fast flurry of thrusts, but it was all in vain. The attacker easily blocked and parried his blows, while the force of his counterstrikes practically threw the fragile Allen back several paces. The northerner’s eyes were veiled as if with a mad haze, a bloodthirsty sneer frozen on his scar-riddled face.

Another crushing spiked pommel knocked Felix off his feet, sending him flying into a wooden woodpile. The young lord rose heavily, wiping his split lip with the back of his hand. The barbarian loomed over him, laughing loudly and triumphantly, barking something gutturally in his tongue, clearly mocking that the “boy could only manage to lightly scratch him.”

Allen spat a clump of blood directly into the snow and, looking up at the barbarian from below, laughed softly in response:

“A light scratch is quite enough for me...”

The barbarian raised his axe for the decisive blow, but suddenly froze. A wild, wheezing sound erupted from his throat. The wild man’s heart began pounding madly and deafeningly against his ribs, as if ready to burst from within at any moment. The whites of his eyes immediately filled with crimson blood. Letting out a drawn-out groan, he took a step back and sank heavily onto his knees before the young outpost commander.

“You see... unlike ordinary swordsmen, I prefer poison,” Felix explained with icy composure.

With a smooth, flawless motion, he swept his thin blade across the unprotected throat of his weakened enemy, and the barbarian collapsed into the snow.