The hunter raised his hands expressionlessly.

A knife was being slung to his neck, and his helmet had fallen to the ground, deep in the ice. With the weight of the helmet alone, a natural fall would never have been possible, so the answer is obvious.

There was silence all around, but the hunter himself knew that four hundred and ninety-nine deadly killers stood in the darkness, all staring coldly at him, waiting for the judgment of the sword-wielding man.

So, who is the person holding the knife?

The answer to this question doesn't even require any thought.

Who else but Yago Sevitaleon would dare to draw a knife near Fenris's Ivory near Fenris's Ivory in front of Karil Lohals, Björn, Azek Ariman and others?

"Give me a reason not to kill you." Sevita spoke slowly.

His face was hidden behind his helmet, his skull armor was scarlet, and hot steam was pouring out of the cracks in his armor, melting the wind and snow before he could even get closer.

Snow and warm wind restlessly hit the hunter's calm face, creating an artificial curtain of rain within his cloudy white eyes.

He didn't blink, as if those eyes weren't his own. He didn't care about the sharp knife that was lying around his neck, as if someone else was being threatened. He was calm and detached, but since he was standing here, he had to face something.

For example, Yago Sevitaleon, who is in a rage.

"I'd love to give you a credible explanation, Sevita, but I can't do that." The hunter blinked. "You should be clear about our duties, and silence is a necessary quality."

"You can say it again." Sevita said with a smile. "I don't mind hearing this riddle again and ripping your throat out along with your spine."

Bjorn stood by and watched the conversation that was becoming dangerous, but showed no emotion. Now, he looked like the man at the fire.

The same is true of Azek Ariman as the blind poet puts his hands in the pockets of his padded jacket, breathes in the cold of Fenris, and exhales a stream of heat that is almost invisible.

They surrounded a black-robed man in the center, one left and one right, and the wolves stopped not far away, waiting for the curtain to come to an end on this 'internal matter'.

Carlil sighed inwardly.

A person has to pay some price for everything, eating requires chewing, rest requires sleep, and even breathing requires the body to function. He was no exception, and he knew that Sevita would most likely complain about it.

It's just that Carlil didn't expect his 'complaints' to be so strong.

"This whole thing has nothing to do with the Hunter, Yago." Carriel persuaded gently. "You don't need to put that kind of harsh thing behind."

Sevita let out a sneer without looking back.

"Come on, instructor. This whole thing was planned by him. If you didn't have that book, you wouldn't be able to get to Fenris, and who gave it to you? Who is secretly planning to make you do such a thing that does not outweigh the losses? ”

"I didn't lose," Karil tried to argue, but stopped talking halfway through.

There was a burst of moonlight in his shadow that was fluctuating and churning.

Bjorn glanced at it, then immediately withdrew his gaze and threw a light punch at Azek Ahriman, who was watching endlessly.

The poet elbowed in exasperation and whispered a series of filthy curses in Fenris, and Bjorn chuckled and turned his face away, the laughter hidden in his beard.

Sevita stared at the hunter, her right hand holding the knife with a slight force, and the short knife narrowly avoided the main veins and sliced into the hunter's neck.

The hot blood slowly fell, creating one crimson blooming flower after another on his power armor.

The hunter remained unmoved, and he remained calm, shaking his head lightly so that the blade could sink deeper, and he was completely in the same way that he was going to be killed.

"We all have our own responsibilities, Sevita. Unfortunately, I can't tell you the full picture, but I can assure you that I'm not guilty. ”

"Even if you kill me now, I won't have any hatred for you. In fact, I would tell our genetic father in the wasteland how wonderful his firstborn son was. ”

Sevita slowly flipped out her fangs and gave him a grim expression that seemed to be a grin, but suddenly withdrew her knife.

"Take my word for it, hunter."

He turned, sheathed his sword, threw a cold word, and walked straight to Björn. The next series of exchanges between the two took place in just one minute, and they were concise and to the point, without any delay.

"Political visits?" Björn asked.

"No, warband exchanges." Sevita said with a smirk. "Is there a banquet?"

"Yes, you can have as much as you want. How big is it going to be? ”

"We've only had five hundred of us, so let's see—ah, no, it's five hundred and two."

Bjorn grinned: "Then let's open it in the head wolf hall, how about it?" ”

"So grand?"

The lone wolf tilted his head and pointed at Carlil, who was silent, and said nothing, but as if he had said everything.

Carlil raised his hand and covered his face, actively beginning to doubt the decision he had made, which was in the hands of the 'moral code' at the time.

——

The Stronghold Monastery of the Space Wolves, known as the Wolf's Tooth Fortress, is a fortress that borders on an exaggeration. It can't be compared to the Imperial Palace, but it's also breathtakingly large.

It is located on the highest peak of the central Asaheim mountain range in Fenris, on top of a mountain overlooking the entire ice tundra. The reason why it was built on such a high place is that in addition to the symbolic meaning, there is also a very serious strategic meaning contained in it.

Thanks to the relationship between altitude and its own altitude, the Langfang is able to penetrate the atmosphere and directly provide a docking point for ships reaching low Earth orbit. This way, the wolves or anyone visiting can actually reach Fenris quickly and safely.

In this sense, the wolf's tooth castle is also a metaphor for the personality of the wild wolves. The world thinks that they built this place so high as a symbol, and few people are aware of the wisdom they are hiding.

Of course. Sometimes, the two are not contradictory.

Carlil paused and watched as Bjorn touched the rock with both hands. They were in a secret passage, and there were countless such secret passages in the Wolf's Tooth Castle, most of which I am afraid only the lone wolf and the blind man who had experienced a full ten thousand years to remember.

As such, they are rightfully in disrepair, but it's not cold here.

The heat warmed the cracks in the stones, and the wolves whispered to each other at the back of the tunnel, as if complaining about the temperature. The air smelled of stinking fur and the smell of sweat from the sons of Ruth, who had developed sweat glands.

This was quite unpleasant to the children of the night—at this moment, out of etiquette, they had all taken off their helmets, their pale faces tense in the darkness, holding their breath as if they had never breathed again.

Carlil took in all of this, and what little sense of humor he had left finally worked to make him smile and ask a question from the expressionless Yago Sevitaleon.

"Don't you think it stinks, instructor?" He asked very directly.

"Didn't you smell worse than this when you were still living in a shantytown?" Carlil asked rhetorically.

"It's different." Sevita frowned. "The lack of hygiene caused by the environment and the lack of hygiene by personal choice are two different things."

"Come on, you cold-blooded bat who always smirks."

Björn, who was looking for a mechanism, heard this, and immediately snorted coldly and gave his own rebuttal.

"If you have the ability, you can come to live in Fenris for a while, and I'll see if you can pay attention to any hygiene in this deathly cold weather. The fur stinks, but at least it is warm. The mead is scorching, but it's also warm."

Sevita smirked and raised her hand, pulling a red-haired bloody claw from Azek Ahriman's side, and without hesitating to grab the man's messy beard with his right hand, or rather, claw.

Food debris slowly falls.

He's a special case." The blind poet spoke slowly. "Lucas is not a universal image, if you are looking for a standard image that can represent most wolves, you should look for this young brother next to me."

Ragnar Ray blushed and straightened his chest, lifting and lowering his shiny armor as if he had forgotten where he should have put it.

Sevita finally burst out laughing, in fact, almost hilarious.

The other four warband leaders in the five-hundred-strong team stood not far away, staring at his unhappy face, silently glancing at each other.

Keul Sahola was the first to speak: "It seems that what the Orak Think Tank said is true, and our eldest brother is indeed crazy. ”

"It's a mental disorder." The hunter quietly corrected. "It's not the same thing as being crazy."

"It's the same thing." Scaradry retorted solemnly and gloomily. "Mental insanity is an explanation of the word 'crazy' in the secular sense, and besides, didn't he have various mental illnesses for a long time?"

"You should know that he and the instructor can hear us, right?"

Sheikher Cold Soul couldn't help but remind, he shook his head and knocked on the stone wall with his hand, and a muffled sound began to echo in this tortuous secret passage.

Grand Master spoke again, and said, "And the others probably could hear what you were saying—like the stinking wolf cubs. ”

There was a howl from behind the wolves, and excited laughter.

"We can hear you, Grand Master!" Someone shouted. But what does it matter? That doesn't affect my respect for Lord Yago Sevitaleon! ”

Sevita jerked her head back, baring her teeth and flicking out a burst of Fenris slang that was so fast and precise that Bjorn was even stunned.

The lone wolf waited until he finished scolding before he spoke, "You've learned a lot from Ruth, Sevita."

"I didn't learn." Sevita reverted to a blank face with hindsight. "I didn't teach him anything."

He watched as Carlil said this, who was staring at him in silence, his hands clasped in front of him. The ten phalanges are distinct, and the green tendons burst out from the back of the hand.

And so the farce subsided.

Eleven minutes later, the large, strangely composed team finally left the secret passage and went straight into the head wolf hall of the Wolf Tooth Castle.

It is also known as the Great Hall of Rieman Ruth, and it was here that the Wolf King once held banquets one after another.

The chair that belonged to him was still on the high platform, alone and covered with fur. Two giant wolves that looked like they were sleeping lay next to it, one left and one right.

From the top of the platform, the huge hall is filled with long wooden tables, steaming delicacies of all kinds, and barrels of Fenris's special wine.

Flags fluttered in the wind, and wolves who had already arrived fought around the table. The cold wind howled, and the light of the sky spilled onto the ground from the observation hole deliberately set aside above their heads, illuminating their faces.

Equipment hung from the walls, the floor was covered with a thick carpet, and it was trampled deep by the coming and going giants, and the mead flowed on it, and the blood left behind the brawl.

Björn took a deep breath and nodded in satisfaction. He strode away from the group and walked straight to the top of the platform.

He shouted something in Fenris, and the hall fell silent, and Carlil looked back to see that the wolves who had returned with them had left the group, and each had found its seat.

A few seconds later, all the wild wolves shouted in unison at this moment, one stronger than the other, like thunder, like a war cry. They roared, stood up, and began to hammer their chests with their right hands, and the sound of gold and iron clashing was incessant, and it was also higher than the other.

Countless Wild Beast Hitomi were staring at the group at the moment, and Carlil could clearly sense that they were coming for him.

And the phrase they shouted

Welcome back?

Carlil couldn't help but look down and sigh, but smiled too. In the face of such a grand and warm welcome, even he didn't know what to say.

However, the wolves didn't care, and they soon pulled all five hundred of the Night's Children to the long table, and regardless of whether the other party was the leader of the battle group or the battle brothers, the fight immediately began. Then it's storytelling, laughter, and competition

Even Carlil was pulled to a wooden table by Bjorn and Aliman, and the twelve thick wooden wine glasses were immediately raised, and Bjorn grabbed his own wine glasses, grinned, and nodded at Carlil.

"We don't think of you as an 'adult'!" He winked at him, then slipped another glass with his hand. "Let's have a drink first, instructor!"

Carlil gripped the glass, tilted his head, and drank it down.

He actually tasted it.

(End of chapter)