Chapter 16
Meanwhile, in the Frostlands, Simon had abandoned his search for Thorne's Territory and turned his sights on Lilith.
He didn't know where her core Territory lay, so Frostbound Bastion became his first target.
The journey from the northern Frostlands back toward the south took time. Guided by the Frost Sabertooths they had already subjugated, Simon and the werewolves smashed two more of the race's strongholds along the way.
The detours cost them hours, but Simon had no intention of stopping for the night.
He now commanded a far larger force.
Most of it consisted of conquered Frost Sabertooths. Only a handful of true werewolves remained at his side.
Those werewolves obeyed their commander's order to follow Simon—but they did not respect him.
As far as they were concerned, he was a lucky outsider who happened to have received their commander's blood. He had no right to give them orders.
They helped him break the Frost Sabertooth strongholds and force the survivors to submit, but little more.
Simon, meanwhile, had placed revenge above the mission he'd been given.
His refusal to put the conquest first had already worn their patience thin.
Werewolves were hot-blooded creatures, and they made little effort to hide their contempt.
After Simon drove the entire group to march through the night without rest, one of them finally spoke up.
"You'd better find this woman and kill her. If you've wasted all this time for nothing, I'm reporting everything to the commander."
"Why should the rest of us pay for your private grudge? We could have split these animals into groups and finished the conquest by now."
"And don't expect us to fight for you. If you can't handle one outsider on your own, you were never worthy of the commander's gift."
Once the first werewolf started, the others piled on.
Hunting an outsider was Simon's problem, not theirs.
They wanted to finish subjugating the Frost Sabertooths.
Unlike Simon, they understood that several powerful races had entered the Frostlands. Every unnecessary delay raised the odds of an ambush.
Yet the moment their commander was out of sight, Simon had dragged them all off to settle a personal vendetta.
It was absurd.
What they didn't understand was that Simon had already died once for underestimating Lilith.
He would not make that mistake twice.
Even at Tier 9 Veteran, he remembered that Lilith commanded more than a dozen Veteran-ranked fighters.
Keeping the native werewolves close improved his odds.
Hatred had hollowed Simon out, and the werewolf blood in Giles's body had made his temper even more combustible.
As the complaints continued behind him, his fists clenched. Veins stood out across his forehead.
"You're nothing but a thief wearing stolen werewolf blood," one of them said. "And you think that makes you one of us?"
They were baiting him deliberately.
If Simon attacked, they could report him to the commander without looking insubordinate. Whether he was executed or locked away so his strange bloodlines could be studied, he would never command them again.
They had underestimated how ruthless he'd become.
Simon stopped at the head of the column.
His head stayed lowered as a smile spread across his face.
"Tell me something," he said quietly. "If I kill all of you here—do you think that would be enough to push me into Elite Rank?"
"What?"
The nearest werewolf stared at him.
Then his face twisted with fury.
"You dare—"
Simon moved.
A blur crossed the snow.
The Veteran-ranked werewolf's head left his shoulders before he could finish the sentence.
The others froze in shock.
They had never imagined Simon would actually attack them.
The hesitation lasted a single heartbeat.
Simon gave them no more than that.
With overwhelming strength and a bloodline superior to theirs, he set about slaughtering the native werewolves across the silent snowfield.
The power coursing through Giles's body intoxicated him.
Simon had never dreamed he would one day be this strong.
The ordinary Veterans around him couldn't survive even a single exchange.
The gap was so wide that escape was impossible.
Within seconds, hot blood stained the snow dark red.
Simon laughed as he killed.
Then the laughter died.
His Rank hadn't moved.
Not only had he failed to break into Elite Rank—the System hadn't produced a single notification.
Simon stood motionless, the frenzy draining from his face.
"What the hell?"
He could feel that he'd already reached the late stages of Tier 9 Veteran.
Yet killing seven Veteran-ranked werewolves had earned him nothing.
"Is it because of Giles?"
That had to be it.
Their shared body and divided consciousness must have disrupted the System somehow.
It didn't matter.
The fight had shown Simon exactly how powerful he was.
Ordinary Veterans posed no threat to him.
Lilith could surround herself with as many as she liked.
Kill Lilith first. I'll sort out the EXP problem after.
Simon surveyed the corpses without fear or regret.
Then he turned to the Frost Sabertooths still trailing behind him.
They were only Recruits, and they were terrified of him.
They hadn't fled because they knew they'd never make it.
With their stronghold leaders dead, they were too disorganized to resist.
Simon smiled.
"My kinsmen were ambushed while marching against an enemy. Tragically, none survived."
His gaze swept the gathered Frost Sabertooths.
"I will continue leading you. Is that understood?"
One of them answered first, its voice shaking.
"U-understood."
"Understood!"
More voices joined in.
Simon nodded in approval and pointed at the dead werewolves.
"Then it's time I made good on part of the promise given to your race."
The werewolves had offered the Frost Sabertooths a simple bargain.
Those who served them would receive stronger werewolf blood, break through the limits of their race, and perhaps even rise to become the next Chieftain of the Frost Sabertooths.
The price was absolute obedience.
Simon's meaning was unmistakable.
The same Frost Sabertooth that had answered first reacted before the rest.
It bolted from the formation, pinned one of the corpses beneath a claw, and tore into the flesh.
The others stared.
Then the creature's aura began to climb.
That was all the proof they needed.
Hundreds of Frost Sabertooths surged forward and fought over the bodies.
They understood now.
Eating werewolf flesh could make them stronger.
Their race carried an ancient trace of werewolf blood, but it was so diluted it rarely manifested.
Ordinary meat did nothing for them.
These corpses were different.
The bloodline power concentrated in native werewolves ran vastly higher. Consuming their flesh could briefly rouse the dormant blood in the Frost Sabertooths and offer a chance to break past their racial limits.
Within minutes, the corpses were gone.
Not a bone remained.
Even the blood soaked into the snow was licked clean.
Every trace of the killings vanished.
Simon pointed to the Frost Sabertooth that had moved first.
"From now on, you are their Chieftain."
The others immediately regretted their hesitation.
Yet the decision also hardened their willingness to follow Simon.
There was no way back for them now.
"Keep moving."
Simon resumed the march.
Before long, the force reached Frostbound Bastion.
He stared at the familiar Wonder and remembered his death.
He remembered Lilith's cold expression as she killed him.
Rage boiled up all over again.
Simon had no interest in talk.
He raised one hand and gave the attack order.
"Kill them. Destroy everything you see."
"Leave nothing alive."