The Snow Fox did not hurry.
They never did.
Even in pursuit, even with prey within reach, their lines remained intact—tight, controlled, deliberate. Riders rotated forward in seamless intervals, fresh horses taking the front while exhausted ones fell back without breaking rhythm. No shouting. No wasted movement.
They advanced like inevitability.
Ahead of them, the riders of the Dragon and Beauty were already unraveling.
Not visibly. Not yet.
But it was there—in the uneven spacing, in the quick glances backward, in the way some hands tightened too hard on reins.
Fear had entered the line.
And once it did—
It spread.
"Maintain distance!" Kate's voice cut sharply through the forest air.
He did not shout wildly. He did not panic.
That was why the line held at all.
Ruger rode behind him, lower in the saddle, breathing uneven. The forest around them seemed wrong—too dim, too heavy. The edges of his vision blurred, as if something invisible pressed against reality.
He blinked hard.
The world did not fix itself.
"Distance?" Franco asked.
"Less than two miles," came the reply.
Too close.
Ruger turned once—just once—
And immediately regretted it.
The Snow Fox were still perfect.
Their formation cut through the terrain like it didn't exist. Lances angled forward, shields aligned, horses moving in disciplined waves. No gaps. No disorder.
"They're not even tired…" someone whispered.
"No," Ruger said quietly.
"They're not."
That was the difference.
Not strength.
Not numbers.
Control.
"Forest ahead!"
The dark wall of the Demon Forest loomed before them.
Ruger's mind snapped into place.
"Into the forest!" he ordered. "We split them there!"
The riders veered sharply.
Behind them—
The Snow Fox followed.
Without hesitation.
They had prepared this ground.
The webs were already in place.
Layered between trees. Reinforced with magic. Anchored low, nearly invisible until too late.
Archers waited above.
Hidden.
Silent.
Ruger raised his hand.
"Hold until they enter."
The hoofbeats grew louder.
Closer.
Closer—
"Now."
Arrows fell.
The first volley struck clean.
One rider dropped instantly—arrow through the throat. Another reeled as a shaft punched through the gap beneath his arm. A third fell with a scream as his horse collapsed under him.
"Again!"
The second volley came faster.
More precise.
For a moment—
It worked.
The Snow Fox slowed.
Not stopped.
But slowed.
Hart rode at their center.
He did not react immediately.
He watched.
Measured.
Calculated.
Then—
"Shields forward."
The formation shifted instantly.
Overlapping shields. Tightened lines.
"Advance."
They moved again.
The webs caught them.
Horses stumbled.
Men were dragged sideways.
A few fell hard—trapped, entangled, vulnerable.
"Push!" Eit roared.
The Dragon and Beauty charged.
Steel crashed into disruption.
For a heartbeat—
It worked.
Then Hart pointed.
"At the left flank."
"Break it."
The Snow Fox pivoted as one.
Not away from the trap—
Into its weakest point.
Pressure condensed.
Focused.
Eit met it head-on.
He roared as he swung.
One rider fell.
Then another.
Then Hart reached him.
The spear struck.
Once—
Blocked.
Twice—
Slipped.
The third strike pierced through a gap in Eit's armor.
Blood burst outward.
Eit staggered.
The follow-up strike hit harder.
His body lifted from the saddle—
Thrown backward with violent force.
He hit the ground hard.
Did not rise.
The left flank collapsed.
"Hold!" Kate shouted.
But the line was already breaking.
Men pulled back.
Spacing widened.
Orders blurred into noise.
"Second line—forward!" Kate roared.
He led it himself.
Halberd low.
Eyes locked.
They charged.
This time—
There was no trap.
Only force against force.
They hit hard.
For a moment—
The Snow Fox line bent.
Kate cut one rider down.
Then another.
His halberd moved like a storm.
Then Hart turned.
The angle changed.
The pressure shifted.
Kate blocked once—
twice—
The third strike broke his stance.
The fourth—
sent him reeling.
The line shattered completely.
"Fall back!" Ruger shouted.
Now—
It was not a command.
It was survival.
They ran.
The Snow Fox followed.
Relentless.
Elsewhere—
Firth stood shaking.
Mana nearly gone.
Across from him, a Snow Fox mage smiled faintly.
"You're done."
Firth didn't answer.
He reached into his robe.
Pulled out a scroll.
Then another.
Then another.
The mage's expression shifted.
"Wait—"
Too late.
Magic detonated.
Fire.
Wind.
Force.
The ground tore open.
Back in the forest—
Ruger fell.
The impact came from nowhere.
A horse slammed into him.
He hit the ground hard.
Air gone.
Vision spinning.
He tried to stand.
Failed.
A body slid off him.
Dead.
Half gone.
Blood covered him instantly.
Warm.
Sticky.
He froze.
A shadow loomed.
A Snow Fox rider.
Calm.
Certain.
The lance lowered.
Time slowed.
Ruger saw everything.
The angle.
The distance.
The certainty.
He couldn't move.
He couldn't breathe.
Fear swallowed him whole.
Not sharp.
Not sudden.
Total.
"I—"
Nothing came out.
"I WON'T DIE—!"
The thought screamed inside him.
Reality cracked.
The horse above him screamed.
The rider jerked violently.
Blood burst from his eyes.
His mouth.
His ears.
Then—
He split.
Clean.
Floya stood behind him.
Silent.
Still.
The scythe dripped.
Ruger stared.
Something inside him broke.
Not fear.
Control.
He laughed.
It came out wrong.
Broken.
Violent.
Then he stood.
The axe in his hand felt lighter.
Sharper.
Hungry.
He moved.
Too fast.
The first rider didn't even react.
The axe fell.
Horse and man split together.
Blood sprayed across Ruger's face.
He didn't wipe it away.
Another rider—
Dead.
Another—
Dead.
He didn't think.
Didn't plan.
He killed.
Floya moved with him.
Not following.
Matching.
They cut through the Snow Fox riders together.
For the first time—
Something changed.
The hunt—
shifted.
But only for a moment.
Because far behind them—
Hart was still watching.
And he was not finished.
END OF CHAPTER 13