Chapter 173: Frost Wolf’s Counterattack

The mark of Oathguard Judgment was like a beacon in the dark.

Nolan’s Mountain’s Resonance became a streak of black light that tore through the air as it thrust straight toward Fenrir’s true body. His target was the weak point marked on the man’s torso by Oathguard Judgment, and he was confident that Fenrir, now forced to wield a sword one-handed, could never stop his blade with skill alone.

The six Fenrirs all showed the same expression of shock at the exact same moment when Nolan charged decisively toward the real one.

That’s him.

That expression alone was proof enough.

Nolan’s confidence solidified, and the strength behind his sword increased yet again.

But just before the blade of Mountain’s Resonance could pierce Fenrir, something struck Nolan’s mind like lightning.

Left leg…?

Wait.

He clearly remembered the three weak points marked by Oathguard Judgment: the back of the heart, the left shoulder, and… the right knee. So why was the marked weak point on this Fenrir’s left leg instead?

A deadly sense of wrongness exploded through him, making every hair on his body stand on end.

Did I remember wrong? Impossible. As a veteran player, his memory for combat details was razor-sharp, especially when the exchange had happened only moments ago.

Then did the marked locations shift over time?

Questions flooded his mind one after another, but on a battlefield there was no time to think.

A terrible premonition swept over his heart like freezing seawater. Only then did he realize that the severed-arm Fenrir before him was holding his sword in his left hand.

A mirror image.

If he still failed to understand at this point, then all his years of combat experience would have been for nothing.

Shit! It’s a trap!

“Damn it!” Nolan cursed inwardly as survival instinct forced his body into motion. Without hesitation, he twisted his waist violently and forcibly interrupted the seemingly unstoppable strike.

The hooked claws beneath Immovable Bulwark’s metal boots dug deep into the ice, carving harsh grooves across the frozen surface as he tried to halt his forward momentum and escape the encirclement of the six duplicates.

But it was already too late.

The instant Nolan braked, the “shocked” expressions on all six Fenrirs twisted into identical savage grins.

“So you really can tell which one is the real body! But you’re still too inexperienced!”

All six Fenrirs roared in unison with the exact same voice. The sound no longer resembled a single person shouting, but a bizarre sixfold resonance that made Nolan’s ears ring violently.

At Nolan’s left rear, one of the “Fenrirs” he had assumed was merely an Ice Crystal Body suddenly accelerated.

The movement was unbelievably fast. The slick ice was not an obstacle for Fenrir at all, but a perfect surface for gaining speed.

The other five Ice Wolf swords struck Nolan’s blade and armor simultaneously before shattering into sprays of ice crystals. Those weapons had been part of the Ice Crystal Bodies themselves, so naturally they could not compare to an earth-element holy sword or Mythic-grade armor.

Yet the delight on Fenrir’s face only grew stronger. He had expected this outcome from the beginning. All he needed was for Nolan to be driven toward him.

The real Fenrir clenched the ice-blue sword between his teeth, biting down hard on the hilt to free his remaining right hand. Then he slammed that hand against the armor on Nolan’s undefended back.

Only then did Nolan notice the object hidden beneath the glove.

A gray disc the size of a gold coin.

The material looked neither metal nor stone, but something closer to bone. Carved into its surface with exquisite craftsmanship was a skull with its jaws stretched wide in a silent scream.

A thick aura of death seeped from the tiny disc.

“Taste this!” Fenrir’s muffled voice forced its way out between clenched teeth.

Nolan’s heart instantly sank.

After fighting the undead legions for over a decade, he knew the aura of death far too well. The presence erupting behind him felt exactly like the black magic shield talisman Yuri had used to save his life before.

Another “gift” from the Shiva envoy. I should’ve been more careful.

If Yuri had possessed a hidden trump card absent from Nolan’s previous life, then Fenrir, one of Archduke Demont’s greatest combat assets, would naturally have one as well.

“Wailing Soulshock!” Fenrir roared.

A fourth-circle death spell. A talisman spell that required no chanting and activated instantly through physical contact. Once triggered, it forcibly tore the victim’s soul from their body for a short period of time, leaving them completely unable to control themselves. Duration: at least ten seconds.

Among low-tier death magic, it was the strongest control spell of its kind.

Fenrir was immensely satisfied with this desperate counterattack.

He had been wary from the start.

The moment Nolan shouted “Oath: Extermination,” Fenrir felt himself locked onto by some invisible force. Though he had never encountered such an ability before, his battlefield instincts, honed through countless life-and-death battles, immediately told him Nolan possessed some method of accurately identifying his true body.

So Fenrir decided to turn the situation against him. The purpose of Frostbite Domain had never been limited to freezing the waters of the Somme River. Its massive area of effect transformed everything within into a stage made of ice. The instant it activated, even the moisture suspended in the air had frozen into countless microscopic ice crystals invisible to the naked eye.

On a sudden whim, relying on his absurdly precise mastery over freezing power, Fenrir manipulated those floating crystals to create an invisible ice mirror between himself and one of the Ice Crystal Body clones. By refracting light through the mirror, he successfully swapped the apparent positions of himself and the clone. And because the clone itself was made entirely of ice, it naturally acted like a perfect reflective surface, completing the illusion flawlessly.

The figure Nolan saw truly had been Fenrir’s real body, but only as a mirrored reflection.

A visual trick.

The only flaw in the deception was that mirror images reversed left and right. The weak point originally marked on the right leg appeared on the left within the reflection instead.

But Nolan had been too eager to finish the fight quickly and had trusted his “system skill” too completely. His entire focus remained fixed on the red-marked figure until the final instant before impact, when he finally sensed that fatal inconsistency.

A tiny mistake. But that was how battles between experts worked.

And Fenrir would not give him a second chance.

“Wuuuuu—!!!”

A shrill scream utterly alien to the physical world exploded from Fenrir’s palm. It was not sound traveling through air, but a direct assault upon the soul itself.

Nolan had just begun to turn and raise his sword when his entire body froze in place. His posture remained locked in mid-strike, yet his consciousness was forcibly dragged outward from his flesh by an irresistible power. The world before his eyes rapidly lost all color, fading into gray and white. An overwhelming sensation of helplessness and separation flooded every part of his awareness.

He could still “see” his own body. He could still “see” the cruel satisfaction on Fenrir’s face. But he could no longer control even a single finger.

“I knew it. A move like that backstab ability of yours couldn’t possibly be used repeatedly.” Fenrir bared a bloodthirsty grin. Even the agony from his severed arm had transformed into the pleasure of revenge. You’re strong, kid. Strong enough to force me this far. No wonder Yuri died at your hands. That armor of yours is quite the treasure too. Once you’re dead, it’ll belong to me. This little farce ends here.”

Frost energy began condensing wildly in the hand pressed against Nolan’s back.

“It’s over. Frostbite!”