Red descended into the snowfield like a hungry phantom. The dagger hummed in the air, a violent, eager vibration that cut through the storm with frightening precision. It darted between fallen wolves in sweeping arcs, and thin ribbons of crimson light rose from every corpse it passed, drawn upward as though the blood itself had been commanded to obey.

SSSHHH!

The blood lifted from the snow, drifting like steaming red mist before funneling directly into the blade. Each slain direwolf's essence surged into Red, deepening its glow, saturating its color into a darker, richer crimson that throbbed with life. Bruce could feel the weapon tremble in satisfaction, drinking the battlefield dry.

He let it feast.

Ash, meanwhile, finished the last survivors without hesitation. One wolf attempted to flee, scrambling across the ice in blind terror, but Ash crushed it beneath a single claw, pinning it effortlessly.

Another lunged in desperation, Ash's jaws clamped around its spine, snapping it with a sharp, decisive crack. The final wolf, still writhing from Soul Flame torment, barely managed a broken whimper before Ash's wing slammed into its ribs, hurling it into the snow with enough force to shatter bone and silence it forever.

Just like that, quiet returned to the blizzard.

Snow drifted gently over steaming corpses, settling atop the ruins of the pack. Bruce exhaled softly, the sound faint against the storm's howl. "I guess you didn't need my help after all."

Ash puffed proudly, shaking off the blood that spattered its scales, wings flaring with draconic arrogance. The low rumble vibrating through its chest made the frost at Bruce's feet tremble. It accepted the praise openly.

Bruce shifted his gaze toward the endless white expanse ahead. The blizzard rolled on, undisturbed by the carnage they had left behind.

"Let's go. There's more." His sigh fogged the air. "This is going to take a while."

He lifted his hand.

Red shot back instantly, streaking through the storm like living crimson lightning, snapping into his palm with a delighted tremor. The blade vibrated fiercely, excited, greedy for more blood.

Storing the corpse, Bruce stepped forward and leapt smoothly onto Ash's back. The dragon lowered itself just enough for him to settle before spreading its massive wings. Dungeon gravity meant nothing now; Ash rose effortlessly as wind detonated downward in a violent gust.

The evolution had changed everything.

Ash soared upward, slicing through the frozen air as Bruce remained steady on its back, cold wind whipping against his coat. From above, the dungeon revealed its true shape, jagged ravines carved into white stone, frozen rivers winding like veins beneath thick sheets of ice, towering pillars of frost jutting upward like ancient monuments.

And everywhere below… movement.

Wolves. Dozens of them. Packs scattered across the snowfields, all turning their heads at once toward the sound of Ash's wings.

Ash growled, muscles tightening with battle-hungry anticipation. It angled its wings downward, ready to dive.

"Yeah, I see them," Bruce murmured, brushing a hand along Ash's neck. "Let's go fight."

Ash roared and banked sharply, plunging toward the snow with predatory intent. But Bruce's eyes had already locked onto a shape among the wolves, a single figure larger than the rest. Taller. Broader. Its fur shimmered like sculpted ice, each strand reflecting the blizzard's light. The aura it radiated cut through the cold like a blade, ancient and merciless.

A beast that wasn't simply strong. A beast that had evolved.

"This should be interesting," Bruce whispered, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Ash folded its wings and dove, sweeping through the storm with terrifying speed, arrowing straight toward the new group of Abyssal Direwolves, and heading directly for the towering creature leading them.

As Ash dove toward the incoming pack, its wings folded tight against its massive body, slicing through the storm with brutal precision. The blizzard howled around them, snow whipping in violent spirals as thirty-five Abyssal Direwolves surged forward below in a perfectly synchronized hunting formation.

Their movements carved patterns through the snowfield, flawless, disciplined, meant to overwhelm anything caught within their closing net.

Ash's throat pulsed with light.

Then, without warning, it opened its jaws.

And unleashed Soul Flame.

No blaze. No flash. No explosion.

A colorless wave rippled outward, silent, invisible, a spiritual inferno sweeping across the battlefield like a transparent tidal shock. Nothing about it announced danger. No heat. No glow. Nothing for an ordinary predator to sense.

But the wolves felt it.

The instant the Soul Flame touched them, the reaction was catastrophic.

AOOOO, AAAAWUUU!!!

Wolves dropped immediately. Some collapsed mid-leap, twisting midair as their limbs convulsed. Others hit the ground rolling, clawing frantically at their own skulls.

Several thrashed in the snow, jaws snapping at empty air as if trying to bite away the agony consuming them from the inside.

It was not a physical scream. It was soul-deep suffering.

Their bodies were untouched, no scorch marks, no wounds, yet their souls were burning alive, torched by fire that did not exist in the material world.

The perfect hunting formation shattered instantly. Wolves scattered in every direction, instincts overridden by primitive terror. The coordinated precision that made the Abyssal Direwolves so lethal dissolved into chaos in a single heartbeat.

Bruce watched, eyebrows lifting slightly in quiet approval before a faint smile curved his lips.

He slid a hand along Ash's scaled neck, his voice soft but firm. "Good boy, Ash. Good boy. Smart beast."

And it truly was.

The last time the wolves encircled Ash, they had forced the dragon to divide its focus, not enough to endanger it, but enough to irritate a creature with draconic pride. Dragons hated being surrounded. Hated having to swat at multiple angles. Hated anything that suggested they weren't the apex of the battlefield.

Ash remembered.

So instead of letting the wolves close in again, it attacked the formation itself, shattering unity with one sweeping Soul Flame strike, disrupting the very foundation of the pack's strength.

An instinctive yet tactically brilliant decision.

Bruce chuckled under his breath. Ash was learning how to be a true battlefield predator.

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