The Regression Of A Grand Mercenary - 72 - Independent Boys - Part 6

Garon’s POV:

After we brought down the two-headed ogre, our next marks became clear.

Two types of monsters stood between us and the end of this trial—the Thornhide Maulers and the Frostbound Colossus.

I’d seen them before, back when I joined the scouting mission. If the ogre was a wall of brute strength, the Maulers were shadows with claws. Compared to the colossus, they were easier prey. But “easier” didn’t mean safe.

And basing off of what I experienced in encountering those monsters on our scouting mission, they can’t be taken lightly. Its possible that in this entire forest, the maulers and the colossus are both the ones who rank highest in the food chain.

They moved on four legs, but they weren’t beasts of fur or flesh. They reminded me more of arachnids—hard, jagged shapes where there should have been muscle, spines and ridges in place of fur. Their bodies were wrapped in plates of dark shell that caught the light like polished stone. Their eyes, if you could call them that, shimmered like tiny beads of frost, tracking every movement with uncanny patience.

Two meters tall at the shoulder. Fast. Hungry. And always hunting.

Maulers don’t just fight. They decide. They weigh a battle the moment it begins—whether they can win or whether they’ll flee. Their instinct for survival is razor sharp, and nine times out of ten, it keeps them alive.

But there was a catch. A Frostbound Colossus could bend that instinct. Force it down. Under its command, a Mauler would throw itself into certain death if ordered. That was the danger. When the colossus called, they didn’t get to decide.

Still… sometimes they act on their own. And that was the sliver of hope.

What made them killers wasn’t just their speed—though they could sprint faster than a horse, and that alone made them impossible to chase. It was their cunning. Maulers hunted with patience. They set traps like a hunter. Lurking in the treetops, their dark shells will blend into the branches like a gecko and they’d wait until prey wandered beneath them. Then they’d drop, sink their claws, and finish it with a clean bite from fangs that could pierce bone.

I’d heard the stories of adventurers gutted before they even knew what hit them.

Their shells were another problem. From above, their armor could shrug off arrows and blades alike. A spear thrust to the back was little more than a scratch. But underneath… that was different. Beneath that carapace, their underbellies were soft, pale, vulnerable. One good thrust of a sword through the chest, and the fight was done.

The trick was flipping them.

But, easier said than done. Even alone, a Mauler was heavy, and its stance was low and braced for impact. Try to push one head-on and you’d end up gutted for your trouble. And if there were more than one…

Our simple charge head-on would only end in a catastrophe.

When I gave every information I had a few days ago, Astin took notice of this and we began our plans in attacking the maulers.

And the only available tactic we could press on was to set a trap against the trappers themselves. Unlike most monsters, Maulers don’t typically have a permanent home to settle in like ogres or goblins.

They move around…move to where there’s food.

But thankfully, because of their obsession over eating, its not hard to bait them down to one location.

You just need a lot of food…a lot in particular.

***

In an open field of snow, the same one where Astin and his group once fought off the wolves, a new plan was taking shape.

This time, their battleground wasn’t chosen by chance but by design.

At the center of the field stood a grotesque mountain of corpses — thirty wolves and five mother wolves stacked high, their frozen bodies stiff in death. The air was thick with the stench of blood and frost, a lure meant for a very different kind of predator.

It took them a while to gather all of these hunted wolves from different areas, but knowing the trap…it was all worth it.

Astin scanned the field, his breath curling in the icy air. Beside him, Garon’s bow was already strung, but his face betrayed unease.

“What are you thinking about?” Astin asked quietly.

“I don’t think this plan will work,” Garon muttered, his eyes narrowing at the carcass pile. “It’s too obvious. Any creature with half a brain would see it for what it is.”

Astin’s lips pressed into a thin smile. “From our eyes, maybe. But Maulers aren’t men. If there’s even a chance they take the bait, then we gamble on it. That’s all we need.”

“And what if something else comes? The Colossus? You know damn well the Maulers don’t stray too far from it.”

Astin turned, his expression calm but firm. “If the Colossus comes, we fall back on the second trap. This one is just for the Maulers. We’ve already planned for both. Trust the plan, Garon.”

Garon exhaled sharply but gave a short nod. “Fine. Let’s get ready, then.”

They retreated under their snowy camouflage, boys spreading out in a crescent formation around the bait. Silence blanketed the field, save for the occasional whisper of wind.

Then, the waiting began.

They needed five Maulers. Nothing more, nothing less.

When any other predator came by to the mountain of corpses, they would judge if they would leave it alone or decide to attack it from afar using a bow, but most of the predators that came by were wolves…and it wasn’t hard to scare them away. All it took was one arrow to spook them off the field.

Thirty minutes later…

A shadow moved in the distance.

The first Mauler emerged — sleek, low, its jagged carapace glistening like obsidian in the pale sun. It stalked closer, but strangely, it did not feed. It lingered, circling the corpses with slow, deliberate movements.

‘…It’s only one,’ Astin thought, forcing himself to remain patient. ‘We can’t spring the trap yet.’

Another half-hour bled away. Then three more appeared, claws clicking against the ice. Then another. And another.

Astin frowned. Something’s wrong.

The beasts crowded around the carcass pile, but still they did not eat. They circled, twitching, testing, as if deciding whether the corpses were safe.

Garon leaned close and whispered, “It must be their instincts…they might be checking if those corpses are good for the taking.” said Garon as he whispered to Astin’s ear.

“Their good…we didn’t do anything to those corpses…so they should be good.” said Astin.

By the time the eighth Mauler arrived, the pack was restless, their claws scraping the snow. No Colossus followed. No more stragglers came.

This was it.

It didn’t take long before the Maulers decided to eat the corpses…and once their fangs opened to tear apart the corpses…Astin smiled.

“Now… Garon. Fire.” Astin’s voice was low but sharp.

With that command, Garon raised up from the blanket of snow while pulling on his bow, and from it, he ignited his arrow…showing its flames.

Out of all the boys in the group…Garon was the most skilled archer. His accuracy was a gift by the heavens compared to the rest of them. Even to a distance as far as 75 meters, its fair to say that he can barely miss his shot.

But right now, he was standing about a hundred meters away from the trap…but he was confident he wouldn’t miss. After all, its not that hard to shot the speared head of a mother wolf that’s carrying a bomb hidden inside it’s jaw.

To his confidence, he let the arrow loose.

It streaked across the air, flame trailing like a comet—

BOOOOM!

The world shattered.

A thunderclap tore through the field, the explosion rippling outward in a brutal wave. Snow and flesh erupted skyward in a crimson storm. For a heartbeat, nothing could be seen but fire and smoke.

When the haze cleared, the trap’s results revealed themselves.

The Maulers lay broken in the snow. Their armored shells, so often impossible to pierce, were cracked wide like shattered stone. Black ichor steamed against the white ground. Severed legs twitched uselessly in the bloodied frost.

Astin didn’t smile. He couldn’t—not until he was sure.

“Check every corpse!” he barked. His voice carried like a whip-crack. “Make sure none of them are breathing!”

The boys scrambled into the field, blades and spears at the ready. One by one, the reports came back.

“Dead.”

“Cracked open.”

“No movement.”

Finally, the last voice called: “All clear!”

Astin allowed himself to breathe. The tension in his chest eased, though his eyes remained hard.

Not a single boy had been injured. Not one claw had been raised against them.

The plan had worked.

The trap had cost them precious time, but in return, they had taken down an entire pack without shedding a drop of their own blood.

Still, the field was a ruin. Corpses on corpses, mangled beyond recognition, painted the snow in black and red. The stench would linger for days.

But despite the aftermath, Astin turned to his men, raising his voice so all could hear.

“Alright…this part is done. Clean up, regroup, and prepare the next step. We don’t have the luxury of wasting daylight. The Colossus is still out there—and it won’t fall to a trap this simple.”

The boys nodded, determination burning in their eyes. For the first time in days, their spirits felt alive.

Yet—

Not long after the echo of the explosion faded, another sound rolled across the snow.

Thud.

A weighty, deliberate step.

Thud.

The ground trembled beneath their boots.

Thud.

The rhythm grew heavier, closer—like the heartbeat of something vast.

“…!?” Astin’s breath caught in his throat.

He turned, scanning the horizon—until he froze.

There, emerging from the pale curtain of drifting snow, stood a Frostbound Colossus.

And it was no ordinary one.

Where most stood four meters tall, this giant loomed over six. A mountain of frozen sinew and jagged ice, its frame radiated crushing dominance. With every step, the air itself warped, weighed down by its presence.

Its gaze—yellow, unblinking—locked onto them.

And in that instant, Astin understood.

It knows. It knows it was us.

His chest tightened as the colossal eyes bore into him, stripping him down to something small, insignificant. A pest. A roach beneath its heel.

Before Astin could even give an order, the creature raised its hands high, the air groaning around its massive palms.

Then—

CLAP!

The sound was apocalyptic. A shockwave of air slammed outward, ripping across the field like an exploding stormfront.

The boys screamed as they were hurled off their feet, tumbling helplessly into the snow. The ground cracked, trees in the distance snapped like twigs, and then—

The storm came.

A wall of snow and wind swallowed the battlefield, twisting the world into a white void. Vision vanished. Sound drowned in the howl of the blizzard.

Just one clap. That was all it had taken.

Astin staggered to his feet, coughing, his cloak whipping violently against him. He could barely see a meter ahead—but he could feel it. That monstrous presence hadn’t moved. It was still there. Waiting.

Fear clawed at his gut, but he forced his body to move. He couldn’t let them die here. Not all of them.

“Shit…!” His voice cracked, but he shouted louder, pushing it out into the storm. “Everyone—listen to me! We can’t run from this! If we try, it’ll crush us in seconds!”

The storm nearly stole his words, but some heard. Faces turned toward him, wide-eyed, desperate.

“This is it!!!” he bellowed, his throat raw. “Proceed to the second trap!”

The choice was madness, but it was the only one left.

To run was death.

To fight was a chance.

And Astin would rather gamble everything on that single chance—than let them be hunted down like prey.

So quickly, the boys acted.

While the frostbound colossus wasn’t so far away, the boys did their best trying to accommodate to Astin’s orders.

While that happens, Mario approached Astin.

“How did we not notice something as big as that?!”

“I don’t know…but this might most likely be because of the maulers! They must have acted as a scout to prepare food for the colossus. Either way…we can’t escape this…we can only attack!”

“Fine….

***

The air itself seemed to shatter.

Snow whipped in spirals as the Frostbound Colossus lumbered into view, a wall of pale muscle and jagged ice towering six meters high. Each step thundered like the fall of a mountain, shaking loose powder from the trees, pressing the weight of dread into every chest. Its yellow eyes burned against the storm, unblinking, fixed on us.

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Even I felt my breath freeze in my lungs, the sight of it was paralyzing. We’d fought ogres. We’d outsmarted Maulers. But this… this was something else. The storm wasn’t weather—it was the beast’s will given form, a blizzard clinging to its body, swirling with every step.

“Its B-bigger than the reports,” one boy stammered.

“Shut it! Hold your ground!” I barked, forcing my voice past the knot in my throat.

The Colossus let out a low, guttural bellow, a sound that vibrated in our bones. Then it raised its hands—massive, glacial slabs—and slammed them together again for the second time.

BOOOOM!

The clap cracked the sky. Wind exploded outward, a tidal wave of snow and ice. Boys screamed as they were hurled off their feet, shields ripped from their arms, the earth itself flattening beneath the shockwave. My ears rang, my vision spun—but I forced my legs to root into the ground, digging my spear into the snow to anchor myself.

“Get up!” I shouted, though my voice was nearly lost in the storm. “On your feet! Move!”

Shapes blurred in the whiteout—my brothers stumbling, crawling, clutching one another. The Colossus stepped closer, and with every stride, the storm thickened, turning day into a howling dusk.

Its gaze landed on me. I could feel it—the weight of a predator’s focus, like I was nothing but a trembling animal beneath its heel. My hands shook on my spear. My heart screamed at me to run.

But running was death.

I swallowed, forced my body to obey, and thrust my hand upward.

“Proceed onward!! Garon! Put some smoke in his eye!!” I yelled.

we always wanted to be prepared…no matter the situation…I always deemed it to be ready. So even in fear, we attacked.

“Smoke, now!”

A sharp whistle cut through the storm. From the rear, five boys pulled back their bows, at the end of their arrows, small jars were tied on—inside those jars were filled stingweed poison packed with goblin piss.

It was a makeshift weapon used to blind the colossus against his tall size. Although the volume of the smokebomb was small, five small jars is enough to blind a monster as big as this.

To my command, Garon led the archers and fired.

Even if the target is moving, as long as it hits its face…its enough to cause a major disruption to the fight.

But as the arrows flew mid air.

The Colossus halted mid-step. Its monstrous head in question.

Yet it was too late.

The arrows whistled through the storm. Thin trails of smoke cut lines through the blizzard before the glass jars shattered against the Colossus’s face.

CRASH!

A burst of black vapor hissed into the air, clinging to the monster’s pale skin. The stench hit even from where we stood—sharp, acrid, enough to burn the lungs. The Colossus reeled back, clawing at its own head, the stingweed smoke worming into its eyes and nostrils.

A roar split the sky. Not just sound, but force—like the mountain itself howled in fury. The trees shook, snow avalanched from their branches, and the storm above churned into a vortex of pale fury.

But the smoke worked.

The yellow blaze of its eyes dimmed, hidden behind the writhing haze. Its massive hands swiped wildly, missing us, raking ice and snow into the air instead. For the first time since it appeared, the Colossus staggered.

The boys froze, disbelief carved across their faces.

“It—It’s working,” one whispered.

“Don’t just stand there!” I bellowed, voice hoarse against the storm. “Press the attack! While it’s blind!”

That snapped them back.

Spearmen surged forward, shields raised against the wind. Archers nocked fresh arrows, some fumbling, hands trembling from cold and terror. Garon barked orders from the rear, his voice steady even as the blizzard clawed at our throats.

The Colossus let out another guttural roar, dropping to one knee as the stingweed smoke seeped deeper. Its claws scraped along the ground, gouging deep trenches in the snow.

For a heartbeat—just one—I let myself believe we had a chance.

The storm wasn’t gone, but it faltered. The blizzard lost rhythm, swirling less furiously as if the monster’s will stuttered with its pain. The day wasn’t won, but it was the first wound we’d dealt.

“Keep it blind!” I shouted. “Archers, fire again! Spearmen, hold the line—don’t let it clear its face!”

The boys roared back, voices thin against the storm but alive. A spark of defiance. A tremor of hope.

We had drawn blood from a giant.

And that meant it could fall.

From the flanks, bows snapped. Dozens of arrows sliced through the storm, tips glinting, hissing as they buried themselves into the Colossus’s glowing eyes.

Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!

A bellow tore the sky as the beast reared back, clawing at its own face.

“Now spears—drive it back!”

Boys surged forward from the snowdrifts, spears raised, their shields braced tight against the gales. They struck at its knees, its calves, the tendons just above its ankles. Dozens of metal tips rammed into flesh and glanced off icy hide. The Colossus staggered but did not fall. Its flesh was too dense—our weapons mere splinters against a mountain.

Still, it felt the sting.

With a roar that split the storm, it swept its arm in a wide arc.

WHOOOSH!

The wind itself turned into a weapon. A dozen boys were lifted clean off their feet, hurled like ragdolls across the snow. Shields cracked, bones popped. Someone screamed—a sound cut short as he slammed into a tree and went limp.

“Stay together!” I bellowed, forcing my legs to carry me closer. “Shields up—don’t scatter!”

We regrouped beneath the howling blizzard, forming a wall of battered shields. Every step forward was a war.

And then—I saw it.

The ropes. Coiled and ready in the snow where we’d buried them earlier. Our trap.

We just needed to bring the beast down into them.

I gritted my teeth, choking on the stingweed smoke, and shouted over the chaos:

“Hold the line! Mario—take left flank! Garon—draw its gaze! We’re leading it in—NOW!”

The smoke curled around the giant’s head, its yellow eyes now bloodshot slits leaking black ichor. The arrows had struck true, but the beast was far from blind—its other senses burned sharper than ever.

And then it moved.

“DOWN!” I screamed.

The Colossus swung its arm. Not like a man. Not like a soldier. But like a force of nature. Its massive limb cut the air with hurricane speed, dragging a torrent of snow and ice in its wake.

WHOOOOOM!

The front line shattered. Boys were hurled screaming, their shields ripped from their arms as if made of paper. One boy tumbled end over end through the snow, leaving a crimson streak in his wake. Another was crushed beneath his own shield, the weight of the gale cracking his ribs.

“Regroup! Regroup!” Mario roared, hauling two boys up by their collars, forcing them to stand despite their terror.

But the Colossus wasn’t finished. It crouched low, pressing one enormous hand into the snow, and with a guttural snarl—it scooped.

SSSHHHHHKKKKKHHH!

An avalanche of snow and ice erupted upward, a tidal wave of frozen death. The monster hurled it like a child tossing sand. The wave crashed against us, burying boys in drifts so deep their screams were muffled beneath the storm.

“D-Dig them out! Now!”

We scrambled, clawing at the snow with numb fingers, dragging comrades free before suffocation took them. Fingers bled, nails broke, but we pulled them out—one, two, three… half-choked but alive.

The Colossus watched us. Not with mindless rage. With amusement.

It knew we were weaker. It knew every second of survival was stolen from its hands. And now, it meant to crush us with inevitability.

“Damn it…” I hissed, spitting blood. My vision blurred from the force of its last strike, but I couldn’t falter. Not here.

“ASTIN!”

Mario’s voice snapped me back. I followed his finger—

The ropes. Still buried, half-hidden in the snow. The second trap. Our only chance.

But the beast wasn’t walking into it. Not yet. It stalked us like a predator, circling, its massive hands flexing, each finger as long as a man’s body.

“Archers!” I yelled, forcing my voice to rise above the storm. “Harass it! Keep it moving! Drive it toward the kill zone!”

Garon answered first, loosing shaft after shaft. Each arrow struck but did little more than annoy the monster. Others followed, a rain of arrows streaking into the giant’s back and arms.

The Colossus roared, furious, swiping at the air as if batting away hornets. The distraction worked—it took a step. Then another. Then another.

Closer. Closer to the ropes.

But then, in one horrifying instant, it bent low, scooped up a massive boulder from beneath the snow, and with a grunt—

THUUUUMMM!

It hurled the rock.

The world blurred as stone crashed into snow, exploding like thunder. Boys flew in every direction, screams torn from their throats as the shockwave rippled outward.

The beast straightened, steam rising from its body, frost hardening its skin into armor. And with each breath, the storm howled louder, its very presence summoning winter’s wrath.

The sight made my stomach twist.

This wasn’t just a monster.

This was a calamity given form.

And yet…

If we could just lead it a little further—if we could just hold the line long enough—the ropes would bind it. The bomb would finish it.

And maybe… just maybe… we would live.

The ground trembled with each step of the Colossus, its massive feet crunching through snow and stone alike. Every time it moved, the storm howled louder, as if the beast’s very heartbeat summoned the blizzard.

“Now… keep firing—drive it forward!” I shouted, with my voice starting to ache.

The boys obeyed. Arrows streaked through the gale, spears thrust into its legs whenever it drew too close, shields raised desperately against the backwash of its swings. It roared in frustration, blood dripping from shallow cuts in its arms and calves, though none deep enough to matter. Still, it moved exactly where we wanted it.

Closer.

Closer.

And then its massive foot pressed down—right onto the snow-covered ground where our ropes had been hidden.

“NOW! PULL!”

Dozens of boys yanked with all their might. The ropes, dug deep into frozen earth and looped around sharpened stakes, tightened in an instant.

SSSHHHKKKKK!

The Colossus staggered. Its left leg buckled, and with a furious roar it lurched sideways. For a heartbeat, hope flared. The beast swayed, the trap biting into its ankle, ropes pulling taut, snow erupting as the stakes held firm.

Then—it roared again.

The sheer force of its movement ripped three stakes clean out of the ground. Boys were yanked off their feet, dragged screaming across the snow like ragdolls. The monster thrashed, each movement threatening to tear apart everything we had set.

“Hold it! HOLD IT!” I screamed, my throat tearing.

The boys strained, muscles snapping, hands bleeding against the rope. Some planted their shields into the snow to brace themselves. Others wrapped the rope around their bodies just to give it more pull.

The Colossus dropped to one knee, its hands slamming into the ground. The shockwave rattled our bones, cracks splitting the snow beneath us.

Seeing it fall…it was finally time.

“BOMB!” Mario shouted. “BRING THE BOMB NOW!”

The last, precious weapon was dragged forward by trembling hands. A single crude explosive, wrapped in black powder and metal shards scavenged from goblin armor. The weight of all our hopes fit into something so small.

But the Colossus saw it.

Its eyes, burning like molten gold, fixed on the bomb. It bellowed with fury and pulled harder at the ropes. One line snapped—three boys hurled backwards into the snow, coughing blood.

“ASTIN!” Mario shouted. “It’s breaking free!”

I didn’t think. I ran.

Grabbing a spear, I charged straight at the beast’s chest. Every instinct screamed at me to stop, that this was suicide—but I couldn’t. If it stood, if it broke the trap now, all of us were dead.

With everything I had, I drove the spear forward—straight into the soft seam just beneath its chest plate of frost-hardened flesh. My core ignited my strength five times and made me stronger than I ever felt. The adrenaline made me focus to a point I made myself feel mad in this time of chaos.

SKKKRRRRKKK!

The weapon sank an arm’s length deep. Black ichor sprayed, steaming in the cold. The Colossus roared, its massive hand swiping toward me.

But then…

BOOOM!

The bomb went off and I was thrown off it’s chest.

But to the bomb’s effectiveness… the left leg of the Colossus disappeared in a storm of fire and shrapnel. Flesh, bone, and ice scattered across the battlefield, painting the snow black. The explosion knocked me off my feet, the world spinning as the beast collapsed.

It fell, the ropes straining, tightening once more around its ruined leg and torso. For the first time, the monster was fully down.

But even one-legged, it refused to die.

It clawed at the snow, dragging its titanic body forward, hands swiping with terrifying force. Boys were caught in the backwash, shields dented, bodies tossed through the storm.

I could hear the chaos—the screams, the shouting, the frantic calls for help—but I forced myself up, gripping my spear still lodged in its chest.

This was the moment.

The one chance to end it.

“ASTIN!” Mario’s voice cut through the chaos. “The HEART—strike the HEART!”

I tightened my grip, teeth gritted so hard they cracked. The Colossus’s glowing eyes locked on me, fury burning even as its body weakened. Its hand rose again, massive fingers reaching for me.

I climbed.

Hauling myself up the shaft of the spear, I pressed closer to its chest once more, snow whipping around me like knives. Every heartbeat hammered in my skull. I raised my blade high—

—and with a scream, I drove it down into the beast’s heart.

“AAAGHHHHH!!!!!”

SSSHHHHHKKKKKHHHHHH!

The Colossus convulsed, its roar tearing through the storm like thunder. Black blood erupted from its chest, soaking me head to toe, burning like acid against my skin.

It spasmed, thrashed, but the ropes held. Boys clung to them with every shred of strength left in their bodies, refusing to let go even as their hands tore open and their arms nearly ripped from their sockets.

And finally—

With one last shuddering cry, the beast collapsed.

The storm it carried with it died instantly, the winds faltering, the blizzard breaking apart into gentle snowfall. The world fell quiet—eerily, terribly quiet.

The Colossus was dead.

But half of us lay broken in the snow, groaning in pain, bones shattered, faces bloodied. No one had escaped unscathed. And yet… against all odds, none were dead.

I stood there, chest heaving, my hands still gripping the spear buried in the beast’s heart. My legs shook. My vision blurred.

We had won.

But it had cost us everything.

Silence.

That was the first thing I noticed after the Colossus fell.

The battlefield that had been nothing but screams, roars, and the shriek of the storm just moments ago was now filled with nothing but the sound of ragged breathing, groans, and the crackle of snow falling from broken trees.

The six-meter monster lay sprawled across the snow, its massive chest pierced through by my spear, ichor still seeping from the wound. Its golden eyes, once so blinding with fury, now dulled, lifeless, fixed on the blank sky above.

I collapsed to my knees. Every bone in my body screamed. My hands, still locked on the shaft of the weapon, trembled violently as if refusing to let go. My vision swam with black edges, but I forced myself to breathe.

Alive.

We were still alive.

“…Is it…over?” Mario’s voice came hoarse, his words shaking with disbelief. He stood only a few meters away, one arm hanging limp, his armor dented, his cheek split and bloody. Yet his eyes searched mine, desperate for confirmation.

“It’s dead,” I croaked, the words tasting like ash in my throat. “We…we killed it.”

A murmur swept through the field. Boys who had collapsed rose weakly, some clutching broken arms, others dragging themselves across the snow. The wounded groaned, the able-bodied rushed to help them, and slowly—just barely—the shattered unit began to pull itself together.

But when I looked around, the victory’s weight sank like lead in my stomach.

Half of us were down.

Some boys had legs bent at unnatural angles. Others lay coughing up blood, their shields cracked, their swords broken in half. None were dead—by some miracle—but the sight carved deep into me.

We hadn’t beaten the Colossus because we were stronger.

We had beaten it because we gambled everything…and somehow, fate let us win.

“Get the wounded into shelter!” Mario barked, forcing authority into his ragged voice. “Don’t let them freeze out here!”

The boys scrambled to obey, gathering what blankets they could, dragging their brothers away from the corpse. The snow around us was painted in streaks of black ichor and red blood, mixing into a foul stench that clung to the air.

I stayed where I was, kneeling beside the Colossus’s chest. My hand pressed against the shaft of the spear. My breathing refused to steady.

“…Astin.”

I turned my head. Garon stood there, his bow slung across his back, his face pale beneath streaks of soot. His lips trembled as he spoke.

“You really did it. You led us through this.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to feel pride. But all I could see were the broken bodies of my brothers, their faces twisted in pain, their voices crying out for aid.

“…No,” I muttered. “We all did. If even one of us let go of those ropes…if even one of us faltered…it would’ve killed us all.”

He said nothing to that. His silence was louder than agreement.

The snowfall grew thicker, coating the battlefield in white once more, as if the storm itself wanted to bury the blood and fire, to hide the violence beneath a fresh sheet of purity.

But I knew better.

This victory wasn’t clean. It wasn’t glorious.

It was survival, nothing more.

And the scars it left—on our bodies, on our hearts—would not be buried by snow.

“…Astin!” Mario’s shout cut through my thoughts. I turned to see him pointing toward the treeline, his eyes wide.

Instinct jolted through me, and my hand went to my sword.

But it wasn’t another monster.

It was the boys. All of them, huddled, bloodied, yet standing. They raised their fists, some weak, some trembling, but all united.

A cheer—broken, hoarse, but alive—rose from their throats.

They were still here. Every last one of them.

And for the first time, I let myself breathe.

I pulled my spear free from the Colossus’s chest with one final heave, and lifted it high into the air.

The cheer grew louder, echoing across the field, carrying with it every ounce of pain, every wound, every tear.

We had faced the impossible.

And we had won.

The cheer still echoed when the wind shifted once more.

At first, I thought it was just the storm changing direction. But then the snow above us spiraled—not chaotically, not by chance, but with intent.

A shadow cut across the blinding white sky.

And then—

Thud!

A man landed in the snow with the weight of a boulder.

Every boy froze.

Every throat went silent.

Standing before us was Captain Thill.

His cloak was rimmed with frost, his hair whipped wild by the winds, but his eyes—those unshakable, commanding eyes—looked over us with a pride so sharp it pierced deeper than any blade.

“…Well,” he said, his voice carrying over the ruined battlefield. Calm. Steady. Yet ringing with a force that made every boy stand straighter despite his wounds. “You survived.”

No one spoke. Not even Mario. We simply stared, battered and broken, desperate for his judgment.

Then, slowly, the captain smiled.

“You did it. All of you.”

The words hit harder than any roar of the Colossus. My chest tightened, and before I knew it, my knees nearly gave way.

Thill’s gaze found me last—straight into my eyes.

“Especially you, Astin. You bore the weight, and you didn’t break. You kept them alive…and for that, I’m proud.”

My throat burned, but I forced myself to nod, my grip tightening around the bloodied spear.

Around me, the boys, despite their exhaustion, lifted their fists once more—not in celebration, but in solemn honor of the man before us.

And in that frozen wasteland, beneath a dead Colossus and the falling snow, we stood as one. No longer just boys.

Thill broke the silence. “I was going to use this only in true emergencies…but looking at you, some of you are a step away from death.”

From within his cloak, he drew a single feather—burning red, not with heat, but with light.

“I promised your parents you would all return alive,” he said quietly. “And I don’t break promises.”

He lifted the feather. With a single motion, it flared—brighter, hotter, then vanished into sparks.

And at once, warmth washed over us.

The cold retreated. Pain bled away. Broken bones knit, torn flesh sealed, breath returned to ragged lungs. In mere heartbeats, every wound—internal and external—was gone.

Gasps rippled through the boys.

“!!?”

“W-what did you just do…?”

Thill exhaled, letting the last ember drift from his palm.

“A phoenix’s feather,” he said. “With this, I won’t have to face your parents with excuses…or corpses.”

Silence. Then, slowly, the weight of his words settled on us.

For what seemed like a magical ending, it didn’t feel like it  at all…in fact, it seemed like it was just the beginning of our lives as his soldiers. and to that…i smiled.