The metal ring was dotted with intricate patterns etched with strong acid, but before it could shimmer in the hot sun, it rolled into the gray-black mud. The filthy muddy water easily disguised the dazzling colors of the silvery metal, making it an ugly oval ring in the eyes of the people of Moulton. The smoky gray cavalryman didn't rush to snatch the ring away, he half-crouched on the ground, gasping and tightening the belt that bound Riga's arm, while a pair of brown eyes turned slyly, as if considering how to remove the oval ring without being noticed by the others.

The Moulton cavalry stopped in front of the hill-like fortress of the Chelstitians, but they surrounded it on horseback and refused to leave. The Quaid were shot down one more in this chase, but the rest were safely approaching the castle gates and out of range of the cavalry crossbows.

The Morton people used techniques learned from the kingdom of Santa Marta in Middle-earth to make crossbows, but the lack of skill of the craftsmen gave the cavalry crossbows many disadvantages. It is very powerful, but it has a very short range, so it has not yet replaced the bow and arrow in the infantry corps, and only the rangers and the like are equipped with some.

When the two horsemen tightened the knotted ropes as the baron had ordered, and dragged Riga towards the horses, the Quaids, who had been out of danger, rushed back again, leaving Morton's cavalry stunned. Under the orders of the nobles, the cavalry immediately climbed on their horses and quickly lined up in a neat assault formation. The cavalry, who had not yet exhausted their anger, prepared to slaughter the barbarians who had rushed to their deaths, and the baron ordered that the crossbow should not be used in advance, so as to prevent the powerful lethality of the weapon from scaring the stupid barbarians away.

The cavalry soon lined up in two columns on the plain, as neat as puppets on a chessboard. Among the Quaid warriors who rushed in, the long-haired brown Gar roared violently across from them, like a large rock monkey that had been touched on the buttocks. The Quaid was angry at his friend's capture, and he knew that Riga had been left behind for the safety of his companions. The Chelstians in the fortress also sent a special cavalry with longbows on their backs, and they waited in a line twenty yards from the city gate, only a few neighing horses came from that side, as if to make the Molton people unsteady.

Chelster was an economic and military alliance of many city-states, and on the border between the alliance and the rest of the world, the fortresses or castles that were at stake would have troops from the major city-states, but their supreme commander would have only one.

The Morton watched as the enemy in front of them stood for them, but in doing so they ignored the Riga who had been thrown into the mud pit with his hands tied. The cavalryman with the oval ring reluctantly climbed onto his horse during the order, allowing the Quaids to finally find a gap to retract the ornament. The delicate ornament from the druid was surrounded by jagged teeth carved into the shape of leaves, so Riga accidentally cut his finger covered in sticky mud when he took it off.

The pinprick pain made Rega tremble, and the Quaid, who had been most dispersed by the madness, could already feel the pain from the numerous wounds on their bodies. Blood as thick as thick porridge gushed out of his fingers, but it was immediately sucked clean by the ornament. The silver ring resembles a hungry glutton, gulping down blood, eventually stopping when the metal vines on the ring's silver filaments take on a bewitching blood color.

"When you feel dangerous

Don't be alarmed

Like a wild bear

Gain strength from your beliefs

When frustrated is felt

Don't be discouraged

Like sea lions

Learn to persevere from adversity

When I feel lost

Don't mess up

Like a cheetah

Seize the opportunity from the situation

When imprisoned

Don't be sad

Like ravens

Freedom from the Heart"

Weakened by blood loss, Rriga whispered, his lips pale and his face covered with scabs of blood that had softened under the mud. The blue pupils, as beautiful and pure as the surface of an alpine lake, looked at the sky, and the Quaid people murmured again. "O god of the forest, merciful immortal. You are the second deity after the Fury. ”

Like a piece of peeled wood that had been soaked for days, the pale skin of Riga's corpse began to rejuvenate, and the warrior's eyes widened, and the majestic upper limbs writhed like a worm to break free of the belt. The unyielding will makes the blood boil, and the Quaid people clumsily but hard mobilize the power of the bloodline, so that the effect of madness returns to its peak. But what happened at the same time surprised the hunter himself.

Riga's already tall body suddenly swelled a little, and then, as if the snow was melting evenly, neatly arranged silvery white silky hairs emerged from under the skin, taking over the entire body like moss growing on the ground overnight. The palm of his hand was swollen and elongated in an itchy manner, and the hunter watched in shock as it turned into a wide bear's paw, and the black nose and beastly snout that appeared in front of him made him confirm his current identity as a bear. After trying to move, the Quaid understood what they were. Massive as a snow bear, it weighs nearly two thousand pounds and can easily overwhelm a Lucius fast-paced horse.

"Roar! Hilag Bless!" muffled words came from the slender bear's kiss, and then the Quaids, no, Quaid Bears stood awkwardly, waving their forepaws violently in the shaky beard that was still there. Fortunately, the cavalry spear piercing the leg had been pulled out by the cavalry, otherwise it would have been a problem for the fake snow bear to even move around. The self-healing power of the madness had closed the wounds, so Riga roared and rushed to the rear of the rangers. The cavalrymen who were preparing to fight the Quaid were unprepared, and although the loud roar took them by surprise, it was not until someone was knocked to the ground that these Morton came to their senses of defeating the enemy in the distance.

"What kind of monster is this, Misal?!" Seeing the head of the quick-walking horse shatter under the bear's paws, the Morton cavalry immediately panicked and ducked around, but they did not forget to raise the crossbow that had been loaded with crossbow arrows and shoot.

The short, thick, wide-tailed bolt immediately let out a low whimper, and then stabbed into the snow bear's body like a nail. But this powerful weapon did not tear through the bear's skin as easily as expected, and the thick fat and bear's hair, which was tougher than raw cowhide, blocked the crossbow arrows, so that the arrows cast of pig iron could only pierce the bear's body half an inch, and then shake off as the giant bear moved.

"Morton!" a cavalryman charged with his spear flattened, chanting the name that gave him courage. But the land could not save his life, like an ant trying to shake an elephant, and the cavalry eventually broke along with the spear in the land for which he had shed his blood. Quaid nearly smashed him in the waist with his forepaw, only to cut him off with a nail sharper than a knife under the gaze of the Moulton.

"This is Avne's pet!Beast with death!" The gore caused the cavalry to crumble, and no one would want to deal with a powerful and brutal enemy that would be difficult to injure.

"Kill him, Kill him, with your axes and swords. "The only one who did not succumb to fear was Baron Morton, who, with his sword, screamed behind the cavalry, doing his best to encourage the courage of these soldiers. He wasn't doing it for nothing, because two horsemen rushed forward, but their results were even worse. The bear roared and knocked the horses to the ground like a ripe tomato.

Riga was the last to defeat Baron Moulton. The middle-aged nobleman knew what would happen when he returned. The Grand Guild of Molton hanged him for unauthorized military mobilization, while the baron's mature and beautiful wife and lovely daughter could be exiled to the border. For the sake of his family and glory, the baron chose to start his last charge.

With a beautifully carved sword in his hand, the baron thrust the spikes of his boots into the horse's hips. The sturdy Lucius quick-paced horse immediately raised its four hooves and rushed towards the Quid more vigorously than Sa'an'er. "Ranger!" the old knight shouted, slashing his weapon at the monstrous beast.

But he was the only one who finished the slogan, and the baron, whose shoulders and sternum had been shattered, lay down on his horse. After touching the mount that was foaming at the mouth, he said the second half of the sentence in a low voice.

"Be a pioneer. ”

As if fragile and dreamy bubbles in the sun, the Baron's whispers vanished with life, while at the same time drifting in the warm breeze was the tenacity of being a Ranger.