Ariel Mountain Range.

The mountains were white in bright years, and in the frigid years- even more so.

A party of eight were travelling through the valleys, riding Grizzled Yaks- white fur coated magical bulls. During the warm years, the citizens farmed yarn from the beasts and in the cold years, they used them as steeds.

Every single one of the riders were wearing white fur coats and a warm head covering. It snowed heavily while frigid winds raged through the valleys, sending chills to all warm creatures.

At the extreme back of the party we’re two hooded figures. Their hoods covered everything, only exposing a bit of their mouths and chin.

Both Adrian and Irene had managed to get the licence. Adrian, using an excuse that they were wanted by a higher noble family, managed to keep their identities a secret. The Underworld did not get along with the nobility that well. But they had a sort of symbiotic relationship. Moreover, there were moles in both of the sides.

So, the middle aged man who tested them, promised to keep it a secret. He admired both of them due to their talent and the good man really wished them well from the bottom of his heart.

Once they were bestowed their hunting licenses, the man assigned them to one of the veteran hunting parties. Today, they set out on a mid level hunting quest- a quest for which they needed to go at least ten kilometres away from the city.

The two just before them were amateurs as well, with less than five quests under their belts. Both of them were shivering from the cold, unlike the completely calm ‘newbies’. The four at the front were steady like the surrounding mountains- especially the one at the spearhead for the formation. Just the aura he emitted shooed the weak creatures away.

The path was treacherous, drowned in snow. They had been travelling for hours now, but they were had yet to cross the halfway mark.

All of the members carried heavy backpacks to sustain through the days long journey.

One of the amateurs to the duo’s front turned back. He was a young man with average features. “Yo, newbies. How come you got such expensive warm coats? This senior of yours is shivering and you are just watching?”

“Shut up, Ruford.” The other amateur kicked his leg. “They are standard coats just like yours and mine.” He turned back. “Don’t mind him. He’s just too sensitive to cold.”

“Tsk.” The one called Ruford snorted and turned ahead. His comrade followed.

Other than the shivering cold, the pressuring snowfall, and the storm-like winds, the journey was otherwise smooth. Five more hours later, darkness approached. The sun dipped down into the horizon and the moon fully appeared, illuminating the world with the little light it shone.

But this little light was more than enough to expose a pack of wolves blocking their path. They were Rezel Wolves- a variant of furred wolves unique to the Ariel Mountains. Not only were they bigger in size than regular magical wolves, they were faster and smarter, capable of using better pack tactics.

The red eyes of the wolves, which contrasted to their white furs, were fixed on the party. The biggest of the canines was just ahead of the party leader. Their eyes were locked.

Everyone stepped down from their yaks. The big beasts were great steeds because of their stamina. But when it came to agility, they were at the bottom of the hierarchy. Fighting against the highly agile wolves on them was akin to suicide.

Ruford, the young amateur from before who ‘wanted’ the coats, unsheathed his sword and took a defensive stance. “Don’t worry, kids. This big brother will teach you how to fight beasts.”

His comrade nocked an arrow to his bow and locked the arrowhead on one of the closer wolves.

Three of the four veterans also took out their weapons. Two of them were archers. And the leader unhooked the two meter long spear from his back.

Undoubtedly, the archer class dominated the hunters. Three out of the six preexisting members were armed with bows and arrows.

The leader took off his hood. He was a bearded middle aged man. Layers of frosts lingered on his black facial hair, dyeing them white. He stayed nonchalant in the face of his adversaries. Clearly, he was a man who faced worse before.

“Leave the leader to me. Rest of you, stop them from surrounding us and protect the newbies.” He said, before charging towards the alpha. He was a hunter. It was his job to hunt, not those wolves.

“Yes.” Everyone shouted. The two veteran archers took the flanks while the the unarmed veteran stood between. He reached his palm up. A green magic circle manifested and began to rotate at a constant speed.

Tens of roots drilled out of the snows and wrapped around the feet of the unprepared wolves. A lot of them were trapped. Soon, arrows whooshed through the air, penetrating their skulls and then their brains.

Both of them were master archers, capable of hurling dozens of arrows in a seconds- piercing targets from a considerable distant. Killing these immobile wolves were akin to shooting still targets- too easy for these veterans.

The two amateurs were the only ones struggling against their enemies. Ruford constantly slashed blindly against a fast wolf, not managing to hit even once. The case was not that different for the other one. He shot arrows one after the other. None of them hit their targets. The fact that there were juniors watching made them try harder. Fortunately, both of them were facing one wolves each.

Adrian did not have to use his demonic eyes to know that the veterans left these wolves to train the newbies.

“Tsk.” Adrian clicked his tongue. If this continued, it would take forever to get out of this ‘training session’. He turned to Irene.

She nodded and snapped her fingers.

The two wolves suddenly froze in their spots. Sword decapacitated one while an arrow pierced through the other’s heart.