Kapitel 8: Gold-Ranked Pet Beast

While Alex went about harvesting lives with his masterful swings of his sword, his men followed closely behind, wielding swords and small round shields.

Their lighter gear allowed them to move faster than the Shieldmen, who bore shields nearly as tall as themselves typically made from a combination of wood and iron.

Alec's eyes locked on his brother, slicing through the orcs and leaving a trail of broken bodies. The sight fired him up as if on cue.

"Shields!" he roared.

His command was immediate; the Shieldmen ducked just as heavy bone clubs smashed into their shields, sending splinters and shards flying.

Without hesitation, Alec charged out of the formation. His boot slammed into the chest of an orc with a force that only a silver-ranked Shieldman—one whose strength doubled thanks to his unique talent—could muster.

The impact sent the creature flying back, its body twisting midair before landing with a sickening crunch.

Even the orc's tough external build offered no protection; the attack had already pulverized its insides, leaving them smashed to pieces.

Another orc lunged, its club raised high, but Alec was faster. His shield came up, absorbing the blow with a resounding clang. And at the same time, he pierced through another orc at his right. "Ah!"

He grunted heavily.

Spinning on his heel, Alec brought his spear around in a wide arc. The wooden shaft connected with the skull of another orc.

Thud.

The orc crumpled to the ground.

But the battle was far from over. Alec glanced back and saw his men struggling to maintain their formation as waves of orcs poured in. Their advantage of surprise was gone, so it was up to their skill and tenacity.

"Where is Lord Asher?"

He looked around and spotted Asher ahead of him. Asher, who was supposed to be commanding from the rear, now stood at the base of the slope, wrenching his spear free from an orc's body. Sweat and blood poured down his face.

Alec's chest tightened, but before panic could take hold, he noticed Alex heading toward Asher.

At the same time, Asher froze, his gaze fixed on a soldier being struck down by an orc's brutal blow. Something in him snapped.

By the time his vision cleared, he was already standing over the orc's body, the fallen soldier's spear in his hands, dripping blood.

Hu Hu~

He panted heavily, the sound of his breathing loud in his ears.

"Lord!" Alex's voice cut through the haze.

Asher turned and saw Alex coming toward him. The intensity of viciousness in his men's eyes had doubled as they saw him exact revenge on their fallen comrade.

"For Lord Asher!" Alex yelled, raising his sword high-up.

"For Lord Asher!!"

With their morale back on its feet, they fought till they had to chase the remaining orcs to their tents and thrust their weapons through them.

When the battle ended, they found no young orcs in the camp—only a handful of females.

This made Asher realize they hadn't fought against a mere tribe but an organized orc army. The presence of female orcs, clearly not warriors but guarded and kept aside, cemented his conclusion.

They were there for breeding, ensuring the army's continued growth. 'The orcs must grow? Huh'

Nevertheless, the females weren't spared.

After all, what were they going to do with barbaric female orcs?

If they had the intelligence to understand humans or the capacity to follow orders, Asher would have considered converting them for loyalty and eventually using them for labor. That, at least, was his thought process.

While some soldiers ransacked the tents for supplies, others began gathering the bodies of their fallen. When the count was done, Alec approached Asher, his steps heavy.

"We lost thirty men. Eighteen Shieldmen and twelve swordsmen," Alec's tone was heavy, laden with the news of sorrow that also lingered in the depths of his eyes.

Asher closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Prepare their bodies. We'll bury them." Without another word, he turned and walked away.

Alec watched him go, his lips pressed. "He didn't even flinch. Is our lord a heartless one?" The question hung in the air, though deep down, Alec already knew the answer.

He turned and was about to leave when Alex called him back.

Both of them traced Asher's path and found him sitting by a tree with his head lowered. Unlike them, Asher felt more pain, which was why he found it hard looking at their corpses. Being a lord seemed easy when it was a game, and you knew those characters were NPCs, but here, he faced reality.

The burdens of their deaths weighed on him.

"Look at him," Alex said quietly. "I had a feeling he wasn't as cold as you thought."

And as he was about to go and comfort Asher, his twin brother held his arm and put him to a stop.

"Don't. He needs some time alone."

Although Alec's face remained expressionless, a gleam of recognition flashed through his eyes. Asher was a young lord indeed.

…

After some time, Asher returned to camp, where his men huddled around the fire, roasting what little they had managed to scavenge for breakfast.

Though the skies above remained cloaked in darkness, the faint promise of dawn lingered on the horizon.

The moment his figure emerged, the soldiers fell silent, their chatter extinguished like molten steel plunged into water.

"Lord Asher..." Alex rose to his feet.

Asher's voice was hoarse when he asked, "Where's Sirius?"

The men glanced behind him, and Asher followed their gaze.

There, standing tall despite the heavy wounds all over its body, was his loyal beast. He could perceive the stench of blood from the wounds, deep and shallow, that could be found everywhere on Sirius' body.

It collapsed before him, causing Asher to rush toward it.

[Criteria fulfilled. Would the host like to upgrade Sirius, your pet beast, to become a Celestial Ice Wolf? Yes or No?]

'Yes.'

Swoosh!

A burst of light shot down, and the men jumped back, startled. A few of the soldiers who had been roasting their breakfast dropped their sticks into the campfire.

Some scrambled to their feet, hands placed just above their eyes, while others instinctively reached for their weapons, falling into defensive stances.

When the light went down, what they gazed at was a 7-foot-tall and 14-foot-long wolf that had white fur and a blue tint at the tail, claw area, and in the middle of its eyes. As if the beast itself were a manifestation of frost

A sudden cold breeze swept through everyone, causing their breaths to produce mists as if it were winter.

The soldiers' bodies trembled not only from the low temperature, but from their primal fear of Sirius.

No one dared to move—not even to breathe. The gold rank aura from the massive wolf was daunting. And everyone felt it: if Sirius had decided to attack, not a single soul would survive.

The gulf between silver and gold wasn't as small as a single rank difference. A gold-ranked warrior wasn't merely stronger; they were a knight, a title that carried immense fear in Boundless.

In Boundless, being a knight meant that the warrior would be recognized everywhere, and knights could sweep the battlefield like lords if not put in check.

This made Sirius a knight-slaying beast.

Asher's eyes flicked down to Sirius' blue-tipped claws, glistening like ice. Something pulled him forward, and without thinking, he reached out to touch them.

The moment his fingers brushed the sharp, cold surface, a jolt shot through him, numbing his arm. The cold was so intense, it felt like his very bones were freezing.

'The ice in his name isn't just for show.'

Before he could think further, his body reacted. His muscles strained, expanded, and thickened. His bones ached as they reshaped themselves, growing stronger. His hair lengthened as if time itself had rushed through him, changing him in an instant.

Before the soldiers' stunned eyes, Asher transformed; no longer just a leader, but a warrior carved by years of struggle, his body now resembling someone who had fought for decades.

"What kind of overpowering talent does the Lord possess?" A soldier gaped, starting a chain-like chatter amongst themselves.

Asher didn't hear him. His focus was on the new notification that blinked in his vision, a tempting offer that could reshape everything:

[Your sheildmen have fulfilled certain criteria and are available for upgrade. Would the host like to upgrade them to a bronze-ranked shieldmen? Yes or No?]

[Your swordsmen have fulfilled certain criteria and are available for upgrade. Would the host like to upgrade them to a bronze-ranked swordsmen? Yes or No?].