Chapter 15 - Dire Wolf

The group of tribal Wood Elves surrounded them aggressively, leaving them no means of exit as they encircled them.

Ballen looked solemn as he regarded them, though the group of Elves that surrounded them seemed young and inexperienced compared to the ones who attacked the senior guardsmen. There were a dozen of them, and each was a Martial Apprentice.

Despite being encircled, Sylvie found a lack of killing intent behind their movements, and she found it telling what they wanted when the one in the lead stood forward.

“We will fight you fairly, misguided ones. One-on-one, both of you will fight one of us, and we will teach you that your ways are wrong.” The lead tribal Wood Elf spoke assuredly, and the way he eyed Arlen and Ballen made it clear who he was talking about.

Arlen seemed nervous about it. He stared at the tribal Wood Elves in concern; they seemed competent fighters.

On the other hand, Ballen showed a side of himself she had never seen.

“If I accept and emerge victorious, will you let us go?” Ballen inquired boldly, not a hint of fear in his expression.

The Lead Wood Elf laughed in amusement at that response, and that was when his gaze turned to the distance in an inconspicuous location as he said, “Elder, do we accept the Forsaken Ones' proposal?”

That was when a cold, emotionless voice sounded as an older, strong-looking tribal Wood Elf covered in the furs belonging to a great beast emerged. He said, “Accept the proposal. Drozzt, show the upstart how weak and cuddled the High Elves made him.”

If Sylvie had the thought of them escaping the group before, she now knew it would be no chance with the older tribal Wood Elf present. She had no idea what stage he was in; however, she was sure it was above Martial Apprentice if he accompanied them for mentorship like Veron did.

Ballen seemed to realise this also, his gaze hardened as he knew it fell upon him to get them out of this.

“I won’t let you down, Father, I will protect Sylvie,” Ballen muttered as his embrace around her tightened before gently placing her down.

Ballen went to leave to meet the tribal Wood Elf, Drozzt, but Sylvie gripped his hand and pulled him back as she felt the need to say something.

Sylvie stared into his eyes as she said, “I know you will win, I know you won’t lose. Father said you have never lost a fight with anyone close to your age before.”

Ballen's eyes softened as he heard her encouragement. He replied, “I promise this will be over soon, we will be safe back in Falamel with Father. As a big brother, how can I lose when my little sister is watching?”

Ballen then moved to meet Drozzt across from each other, where a circle was formed around them. Arlen stood nervously by her. He was a solid fighter, yet not as good as Ballen, so he was unlikely to do any better if Ballen lost, which meant their chance to escape ultimately lay in Ballen's hands.

Drozzt, the Wood Elf standing opposite Ballen, was shorter in height, standing just under 6 feet, and was of lithe build. He wore hardly any armour, lightly covered in beast hide, which left much of his skin bare, revealing tattoos and markings with symbolic meaning.

Ballen regarded his foe thoughtfully as he said, “May the Forest guide my blade true, no blood will be spilt today, yet I will defeat you for our freedom.”

Drozzt glanced disdainfully at him as he replied, “You dare speak of the Forest, you have supported those who allowed outsiders to invade our home. I have no respect for you, Oathbreaker.”

‘Oathbreaker?’ Sylvie tilted her head in confusion at that comment.

Ballen's gaze hardened as he again regarded Drozzt, “So be it. How will we duel?”

“Your favoured weapon, melee, of course. Our Elder is a healer; there is no need to be concerned about injuries, though I promise not to hurt you that bad.” Drozzt said.

Both of them drew their weapons at that. Ballen drew his long sword, whereas Drozzt was a dual-wielder; he drew two curved short swords.

Dual-wielding was difficult to master, and anyone who knew how to utilise such a style properly was a formidable opponent. And the way Drozzt carried himself with the blades, Sylvie knew he seemed to be the latter, and Ballen did too, going by the cautious look in his eyes.

Both tensed, awaiting instruction to start. Ballen had a measured, straight stance, appearing like a solid oak tree, whereas Drozzt seemed energetic and springy, like he was about to pounce forward.

At that time, the Elder tribal Wood Elf spoke, “The duel may commence.”

Drozzt attacked when the Elder spoke, coming at Ballen like a blazing fury who hurriedly defended his rampant strikes.

Sylvie's eyes grew wide at the display of skill. Drozzt was extremely fast and adept at using his two blades, yet Ballen was an expert with the long sword, fully utilising its reach, length, and superior power to stay out of reach from Drozzt's swift strikes continuously.

Ballen was constantly backed up, forced to take the defensive from Drozzt's constant yet measured aggression; he was noticeably the bigger and physically stronger of the two; however, Drozzt never allowed him to be in a position where he could utilise it.

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Drozzt was also far too swift; his lack of armour gave him a freedom of movement Ballen did not have with his full leathers. Sylvie had hope for Ballen at the start, but when she saw him bite on a feint and Drozzt inflict the first wound, she knew he was in for a brutal fight.

Ballen winced as one of Drozzt’s blades left a sharp cut on his thigh, and his remarkably sharp sword cut through his leather armour like nothing.

“Slow and stiff,” Drozzt remarked as he smirked.

“Weak and dainty,” Ballen replied with a grin, causing Drozzt's eyes to flash with irritation as he overextended a strike.

Forced to remain in close range to Ballen and unable to repeat the quick in, out strategy he was doing, he was forced to block the forceful swing of the long sword head on before Ballen threw a left hook with his free arm, punching him right in the jaw and sending Drozzt reeling.

Drozzt shook his head in dizziness before Ballen pressed his advantage further. Putting all his strength into it, he swung an overhead strike that Drozzt hurriedly blocked.

Ballen was a big and powerful Martial Practitioner at the peak of the Apprentice Stage, and such a blow sent Drozzt staggering to the ground, causing him to lose one of his weapons in the process.

The turn of events was so swift that it shocked the spectators, yet as Ballen was about to press his advantage, Sylvie saw Drozzt, in a panic, bring something else into the duel. Magic.

Drozzt raises his free hand and chanted, “Wind Blade.”

Before Sylvie could blink, a condensed green blade formed out of thin air and, with a whoosh, was sent directly towards Ballen's outstretched arms.

To her horror, the spell severed Ballen’s arms like nothing, leaving him standing shocked as he stared at the empty air where his arms used to be.

“Ballen!” Sylvie shouted in alarm.

Arlen looked in shock and stared at the tribal Wood Elves, dumbfounded.

On the other hand, the Elder Wood Elf seemed emotionless as he said, “Ah, Drozzt, look at the mess you caused. Resorting to Wind Magic to defeat an Oathbreaker youngling is disappointing.”

Drozzt appeared ashamed as he said, “Big Brute caught me by surprise, strong for an Elf, more resembles an Orc than our kin.”

Ballen just remained standing, distraught as they spoke casually, and blood began emerging as he fell onto his knees weakly, defeated.

“I’m crippled… I’m useless… Father…” Ballen mumbled as his face became increasingly pale from the swift blood loss.

“What are you doing, save him!” Sylvie screamed in frustration as she ran over to him.

The tribal Elder Wood Elf regarded her for the first time as he said, “I suppose I better not let him bleed out. Tie the others up, we will bring them back to the Tribe, the girl is young enough to be saved.”

It was then that the Tribal Elder Wood Elf muttered a chant before a glowing light emerged from his palms, enveloping Ballen before swiftly healing Ballen, causing the severed holes where his arms used to be to form into freshly healed stumps, stopping the flow of blood immediately. His face also took on a rosier tint, though the look of despondency remained.

Ballen's eyes looked dead at that moment, and for the first time in her life, Sylvie genuinely felt enraged.

“I will! I will! I will kill you.” Sylvie said, tears welling up in her eyes.

The Tribal Wood Elves stared at her burst of emotion in absolute silence with looks of detachment. They remained calm and self-important; to them, she was an immature, misguided child.

“You? The Forest abandons you! You come from a forsaken ilk! You are nothing but a misguided child.” The tribal Elder Wood Elf berated her as he shook his head.

However, that was when the group heard it.

CRACK.

The sound of a branch breaking. Something big was near.

Turning her head to the source of it. She saw big, green, glowing eyes.

Growls sounded like a large wolf had emerged from the dense grass, noticing it had been discovered.

She was now able to observe it visually. She saw a gigantic Wolf, over twelve feet long and six feet tall. It must have been a thousand pounds of pure muscle, and as its hungry eyes gazed on them, she saw crafty intelligence that warned danger.

The Tribal Elder Wood Elf seemed alarmed at their appearance, but not overly fearful as he said, “Dire Wolf! Defensive formations. Drozzt, get to the rear, Dire Wolves won’t usually attack larger groups, this one is by itself, its pack may be nearby, though they are wary, it won’t engage us in life and death unless it has a pack behind it, usually that only happens when their young is threatened…”

At that moment, she met the eyes of the lead wolf, and she stared into those big green eyes. She felt a connection.

‘Child of the Forest. This one surrenders its form in death to the Apex of us, we are weak, ill and on our last breath, doomed to die a pointless death, though now we shall live on as the start of your legend.’ A beautiful, feminine voice filled her mind, and at that moment, she somehow knew the Dire Wolf spoke to her.

It was a she, and as its cryptic messages filled her mind, the Dire Wolf chose to do something the Tribal Wood Elves never saw coming: it charged.

Dire Wolves are cautious hunters. They will not risk injury to themselves unless starving or threatened, yet this Dire Wolf came to die.

The tribal Elder Wood Elf stared in shock as the lead Wolf pounced at him, yet though a Dire Wolf may scare an Apprentice or Low Order Martial Practitioner, he was at the Intermediate Order, and was stronger than the average Dire Wolf.

Showing absurd agility, which made Drozzt an agile fighter seem slow in comparison, he adeptly dodged the lunge of the Dire Wolf, plunging his blade deep into its heart as he did so, yet as the Wolf, in its dying movement, turned its head and attempted to clamp its jaws on his arm, the Elder Tribal Wood Elf saw a strange light in its eyes, as if it was relieved, he thought that look would vanish as he twisted the blade in its heart deeper yet it remained.

The Elder Tribal Wood Elf stared on in shock. He felt the Dire Wolf virtually throw its life away the way it lunged at him. He had never seen a Dire Wolf act that way; it was as if it wanted to be killed.

A strange light emerged at the moment of the Dire Wolves' dying breath. Instead of dispersing, the wolf's soul emerged, and as if it had a path determined, it headed straight towards Sylvie.

Sylvie felt something collide into her psyche. As she suddenly unlocked something, her body thrummed with power, and she felt something awakening.

At that moment, she instinctively wanted to change, and she did.

Sylvie began transforming, and for the first time, she became something more. She took the first step as a Druid, subjugating the Dire Wolf's soul, unlocking its wild shape.

A regular Druid would now unlock the powers and form of the Dire Wolf that had been in life, yet Sylvie was no regular Druid. She was an Apex Druid, and she would take on the strongest form of a Dire Wolf possible.

Sylvie would become a Dire Wolf of maximum potential, the outlier of its kind, the strongest, most perfect version of a Dire Wolf that could be born.