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Icewind's fury stemmed from witnessing me being struck by magic. Despite its power not reaching that of the Ice Mountain Beamon after devouring its crystal core and undergoing evolution, it was still comparable. With the strength of a high-ranking magical beast, as long as it didn't face a Sword Master or a mage, those mercenaries at most on the level of Silver Warriors wouldn't be able to harm it. If it fought with all its might, it could single-handedly slaughter all the mercenaries.

However, before the battle, I had given it an order to avoid killing if possible. On one hand, it was to give the young Werewolves a genuine life-or-death combat experience, so they wouldn't think hunting Half-Orcs and magical beasts counted as true battles. On the other hand, I hoped to capture more prisoners. Not only could they fetch a high price in the slave market, but they would also provide the information about the human world that we had been longing for.

Yet, when Icewind saw me fall to magic, it immediately discarded my previous command. Roaring, it unleashed a barrage of icy spears and frosty fog, turning anyone who dared block its path into ice fragments. It then charged straight towards the human who cast the spell.

"Watch out, stop it quickly!"

The menacing Icewind immediately raised everyone's alertness. The old captain struggled to his feet, while a young mercenary hurried over to retrieve the captain's massive twin-bladed sword. The mage and cleric were still unable to stand, but the female mage, Hai Ruo, grabbed her staff from the ground and activated the scorching fireball spell stored within. Two enormous, condensed fireballs shot out. The half-elf archer, who was now the most intact combatant, immediately drew her longbow, focusing her energy to unleash seven lightning-infused magic arrows. Having suffered at my hands before, she no longer dared to shoot ordinary arrows.

Icewind reacted swiftly, immediately countering the Scorching Fireball with a massive blast of freezing air. The two magical forces collided head-on, instantly triggering an explosion. Due to Icewind's short range of exhalation, the center of the blast was dangerously close to it, stripping away much of its protective Frost Armor.

It must be acknowledged that their ensemble, with seamless teamwork and sophisticated tactics, was capable of inflicting substantial damage even to high-ranking magical beasts despite their battered conditions. Had they been at full strength, Icicle Wind might have had no choice but to flee for his life. Unfortunately for them, they fell prey to my initial scheme, never managing to coordinate effectively, allowing me to defeat them one by one. Nonetheless, they ultimately delivered a powerful magical blow with their teamwork in the end.

Amidst the icy gale, bloodlust intensified. Despite taking another sword strike, the creature unleashed its Frostclaw Bloodrend, sending the aged Sword Master flying. It then swiped its tail, knocking over the charging young mercenary, before turning to charge at the female mage.

Half-elf Avril, witnessing her magic arrows failing to harm the formidable high-ranking magical beast before her, gritted her teeth resolutely and drew a jade-like emerald green crystal arrow from her quiver, placing it on her longbow. This arrow was named "Vitality Emerald Scar," a high-grade magical arrow crafted during the heyday of the Elven Empire. Its power was immense; even a high-ranking magical beast would either perish or be severely wounded upon impact. It had originally been a precious defensive treasure bestowed upon Avril's elven father when he left the Elven Forest years ago. He, in turn, had spared no use of it himself and passed it down to his daughter.

Avery was just about to draw her bow and release this most precious arrow when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Instantly, a tingling current of numbness spread throughout her body. She started in alarm, managing to turn her head with great effort, only to come face to face with the nightmare-like young Werewolf's once-handsome features, now marred by red and black patches from lightning strikes. Before she could react further, a heavy blow to her abdomen plunged her world into darkness as she lost consciousness.

Damn it, thank goodness I was well-prepared; otherwise, I'd have ended up here again. Alas, all my anti-magic equipment is now destroyed.

Chapter 9: A Detailed Account of the Battle's Cause and Effect

The dawn battle on the Half-Orc wasteland concluded with a complete victory for the Werewolf youth army. Over forty mercenaries, two Sword Masters, four Golden Warriors, along with a mage, a cleric, and an enchanted archer were captured. A vast array of weapons, armor, heavy crossbows, wealth plundered from the icy village, and over a hundred Werewolf pelts were seized.

Despite being hit by the high-level lightning scroll cast by the human female mage, I had prepared beforehand. Clad in more than a dozen anti-magic items crafted by Blizzard House, especially the latest Dark II series equipment – the Ninth Edition "Dark God's Fang Gauntlets" and the "Ogre Skin Armor" – these protected me from most of the magical damage. The remaining was mitigated by my Golden Bell Shield and the Nine Yin Divine Art. Though my appearance was pitiful, I wasn't significantly injured. After defeating the half-elf enchanted archer, the remaining defeated soldiers were no match. Under the pressure of Ice Wind and my formidable strength, the old Captain Hake made the wise choice to surrender.

The cleric and the female mage, who had been injured by my Palm Strike, regained their mobility due to the cleric wearing armor beneath her white robes. While both mages and clerics utilize mental power, unlike mages who cannot use metal equipment, clerics can utilize some conventional protective gear. Thanks to the armor, the cleric, whose injuries weren't severe, struggled to cast a healing divine spell on the mage, allowing the female mage, Hai Ruo, the chance to use her magic scroll.

As for the unexpected reinforcements, it was discovered through interrogation that they were originally an ambush team of crossbowmen lying in wait in the Swallowing Marsh, targeting our mission's objective. In their pursuit, due to a shortage of horses, they were forced to follow on foot, arriving just as the sun set the previous evening. The former Captain, Old Hake, promptly contacted them and arranged for them all to hide at the entrance of the camp, ready to give the pursuing Werewolves a harsh lesson. Having come from the marsh themselves, they were naturally undetectable by the tracking wolves. It was a clever plan; the nickname "Wily Fox of Blackmarsh" truly suited Old Hake. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on his side. Despite his superior ambush tactics, I ultimately secured victory through sheer strength.

The adolescent Werewolves, having concluded their battle, were methodically tending to their wounds, arranging the captives, and cleaning up the camp. I, on the other hand, was crouched in a corner of the encampment, sorrowfully combing through my hair, half of which had been charred black.