The riders of the Snow Fox did not rush.
They did not need to.
Their formation stretched across the road like a living wall—disciplined, silent, controlled. Even at a standstill, they radiated pressure. Horses shifted but did not break line. Shields rested but could rise in an instant. Every man knew his place.
At the front stood Hart.
Armor polished.Lance steady.Eyes calm.
He was not excited.
He was not angry.
He was certain.
Across the field, the Dragon and Beauty slowed.
Not by choice.
By instinct.
Ruger felt it before anyone spoke.
That pressure.
That difference.
He had seen soldiers before.
He had fought mercenaries.
He had even killed trained men.
This was not the same.
"They're… too clean," Franco muttered.
Kate said nothing.
But his grip tightened slightly.
Behind Ruger, some of the newer recruits shifted uneasily in their saddles. One man swallowed audibly. Another adjusted his weapon twice in quick succession.
Small things.
But they added up.
Hart raised his lance slightly.
Behind him, the Snow Fox infantry split into two lines and began to advance.
Slow.
Measured.
Every tenth step—
They struck their shields.
"Kill."
Again.
"Kill."
The sound rolled forward like a drumbeat.
Heavy.
Relentless.
Ruger's men paled.
"Hold formation," Kate said quietly.
Ruger exhaled slowly.
This was not going the way he had planned.
But the plan still stood.
He raised his hand.
"Prepare."
The first layer activated.
Black mist rolled across the ground, thick and unnatural. It spread outward in seconds, swallowing the space between the two forces.
Then—
It cleared.
Webs.
Dozens of meters of dense, interlocking strands stretched across the field, glistening faintly in the light. Thick. Sticky. Reinforced with magic.
A murmur ran through the Snow Fox lines.
Hart tilted his head slightly.
"Interesting," he said.
He did not stop.
"Forward."
The infantry advanced.
"Archers," Kate said.
"Draw."
Strings tightened.
"Loose."
The first volley cut through the air.
Arrows struck shields.
Some deflected.
Others did not.
One man dropped.
Then another.
"Loose."
The second volley hit harder.
More men fell.
For a moment—
It worked.
The Snow Fox line slowed.
Ruger watched closely.
Calculating.
Timing.
Distance.
"Again," he said.
A third volley.
This time, the infantry raised shields overhead, tightening formation, adjusting spacing. Losses slowed.
Adaptation.
Immediate.
Ruger's eyes narrowed.
"They're too fast…" he muttered.
The infantry reached the edge of the webs.
They did not stop.
They cut.
Burned.
Forced their way through.
Slowly—
But steadily.
Hart remained behind them.
Watching.
Waiting.
He knew what Ruger was doing.
He just didn't care.
Kate raised his halberd again.
"All units—ready!"
This was the moment.
Ruger inhaled.
"Now—"
"RETREAT!"
The order broke across the field.
The Dragon and Beauty turned instantly.
Not chaos.
Not panic.
A planned withdrawal.
They rode hard.
Fast.
Pulling away.
For one second—
Hart didn't move.
Then his expression changed.
He smiled.
"After them."
The Snow Fox surged forward.
The hunt began.
Hours earlier—
Le Mans had been quiet.
Morning light stretched across the mountain town, painting broken rooftops in soft gold. Smoke rose from chimneys. Chickens wandered freely. Dogs barked lazily.
It looked peaceful.
It wasn't.
The riders of the Dragon and Beauty entered without slowing.
Armor.Steel.Authority.
The town reacted.
Not with welcome.
Not with fear.
With silence.
Ruger noticed immediately.
"…Strange," Franco murmured.
Kate's eyes moved slowly across the streets.
Every man.
Every doorway.
Every window.
Weapons.
Crude.
But present.
Ruger dismounted slowly.
Two thousand people.
Three hundred households.
Poverty everywhere.
"…Fifty gold a year," he muttered.
"Worthless."
Franco shot him a look.
A man stepped forward.
Ian.
Mayor.
"My lords—"
Ruger waved him off.
"This land belongs to us now."
"Prepare food."
"Bring records."
A second figure stepped forward.
Barm.
Massive.
Hammer in hand.
"No," he said.
The word landed heavily.
"We don't answer to you."
The crowd murmured.
Agreement.
Kate moved forward slowly.
"Explain."
Barm's voice rose.
"You weren't here when we needed help."
"You didn't protect us."
"You only come to take."
He raised his hammer.
Kate didn't wait.
CRACK.
The halberd struck upward—
splitting the weapon cleanly in half.
The follow-up blow drove into Barm's back.
Bone snapped.
The man was thrown several meters, blood spraying as he hit the ground.
Silence fell instantly.
Fear replaced anger.
Ruger stepped forward.
"Anyone else?"
No one moved.
"Good."
They ate in silence.
Planned in whispers.
Waited.
When the scout arrived—
They moved.
Now—
They ran.
The forest swallowed them again.
Branches tore at armor. Roots twisted beneath hooves. Horses struggled to maintain speed.
Behind them—
The Snow Fox closed in.
Ruger risked a glance back.
Still perfect.
Still controlled.
"They're not breaking…" someone whispered.
"No," Ruger said quietly.
"They won't."
Ahead—
The ambush point.
"Positions!" Ruger shouted.
Riders split.
Vanished into the trees.
Silence fell.
Then—
Hoofbeats.
The Snow Fox entered.
Arrows flew.
Men dropped.
The forest exploded into motion.
Steel.
Blood.
Chaos.
For a moment—
It worked.
Then Hart moved.
He pointed once.
"Break them."
The Snow Fox shifted instantly.
Formation tightened.
Pressure focused.
They didn't escape.
They crushed.
Eit roared as he charged.
Hart met him.
Their weapons collided.
Eit pushed.
Hart adjusted.
The spear slipped.
Pierced.
Armor shattered.
Blood erupted.
Eit was thrown back.
The line broke.
Everything collapsed.
"Fall back!" Ruger shouted.
This time—
It was not planned.
It was survival.
They ran.
The Snow Fox followed.
Relentless.
Hart did not rush.
He did not need to.
Because he already knew—
The outcome had been decided.
Deep in the forest—
Floya moved.
Faster than before.
And this time—
It was not wandering.
It was hunting.
END OF CHAPTER 12