Chapter 4

While Delphine trembled in despair inside the freezing Moon Palace, the abandoned smithy in the wasteland burned white-hot.

With the Silver-Forging Rune, Halvard braced himself on his crippled legs before the forge and hammered out the first batch of mithril armor.

Our blood and sweat quickly attracted a buyer.

"Bang!"

Kael, the commander of the Northern Mercenary Corps, kicked open the wooden door of the smithy, the stench of blood clinging heavily to him.

His wolf riders had recently been nearly wiped out by high-level blood beasts.

The armor forged by pureblood nobles rotted like paper under their venom.

With nowhere else to turn, he had come looking for a wasteland blacksmith.

"Halvard, does that broken forge of yours actually work?"

Kael flicked black blood from his blade and irritably kicked a pile of discarded ore.

"Put it on."

I stepped forward, pulled the freshly forged mithril breastplate from the cooling basin, and tossed it directly into Kael's arms.

"Take it into a nest and you'll find out."

The heavy metal gleamed with a cold blue light.

"Double-purification runes, forged with pure mithril."

I stared into his rugged eyes.

"If third-tier blood-beast venom corrodes through it within three days, I'll pay you one hundred pure gold coins per soldier."

"But if your men all come back in one piece, every ironworking contract for your corps belongs to us from now on."

Kael raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Bold little thing."

Halvard stood nearby, his hands covered in fresh blisters from the forge.

He gripped his hammer tightly, his eyes like those of a lone wolf guarding her cub.

"My daughter's rules are the rules here."

"Kael, are you willing to bet on it?"

"Done! I'll trust you two this once!"

Kael seized the mithril breastplate, wrapped himself in his fur cloak, and plunged into the snowstorm without looking back.

For the next three days, the mountain passes were sealed by snow.

But inside the battered smithy, the forge never went out.

Win or lose, Halvard's hammer never stopped.

Its harsh ringing became the only sign of life in the wasteland.

Then, on the evening of the third day, a mournful wolf howl tore through the blizzard.

"Bang!"

Kael came crashing through the wooden door like a storm, riding a heavily armored direwolf that was barely alive.

The direwolf's legs buckled beneath it.

Kael leaped down and strode forward, his armor encased in thick layers of venom and black blood.

He grabbed Halvard's hand, his eyes blazing with excitement.

"Damn it! Halvard, you old bastard. You're a master smith!"

Kael's chest heaved as he spoke in a hoarse voice.

"I fought the Blood Beast King for half an hour inside its nest."

"This armor didn't even get a crack!"

"The steel shells those pureblood nobles make for the guards are nothing but paper compared to this!"

"Bang! Bang!"

Two heavy leather sacks slammed onto the rusted anvil.

"Two hundred pure gold coins. Down payment!"

"The lives of my five hundred brothers are in your hands from now on!"

As the pure gold coins spilled from the sacks, Halvard's hands trembled.

A single muddy tear fell into the quenching pool and instantly turned to white steam.

With this blood-soaked fortune, we purchased five square miles of wilderness and placed the blueprints for Mithril Quenching directly before the Northern High Council.

Within a single week, this drafty little smithy had become legendary throughout the northern mercenary circles.

The undercurrent finally reached the day of the full moon.

The temple's annual Bloodline Awakening Ceremony had arrived.

The cold wind howled.

The central plaza fell utterly silent before the Awakening Stone.

With one hand, I touched the stone.

Cracks instantly spread across its surface.

I awakened the long-lost Ancient White Wolf bloodline on the spot.

An SSS-rank Alpha's pressure swept across the entire plaza.

As for Delphine, years of being forced to drink impure Blood-Cleansing Potions had completely destroyed her bloodline.

She couldn't even form the most basic wolf mark.

Before everyone, she became the lowest-ranking Markless Omega.

After the ceremony, the plaza outside the temple was packed with members of every major clan.

An extravagantly luxurious black carriage stopped by the roadside.

Delphine was wrapped in a revealing crimson gown, her face caked in heavy makeup as she prepared to attend Lord Bastian's infamous Blood Moon Banquet.

But when she looked up and saw my name shining at the very top of the massive stone monument, her face twisted instantly.

"No… Impossible!"

Delphine shoved her way through the crowd like a madwoman, her sharp red nails reaching straight for my face.

"Thessaly! You spend every day covered in soot beside that broken forge. How could you awaken the Ancient White Wolf?!"

"You used dark magic! You cheating stray!"

The pureblood nobles around us frowned.

No one paid attention to her.

Their eyes were filled with nothing but contempt for the raving Omega.

Just then, Halvard approached, leading a horned beast loaded with freshly mined ore.

Delphine clung to him like a drowning woman grabbing the last piece of driftwood.

"Look!"

She shrieked and pointed at him.

"This is her crippled stray-dog father!"

"Two filthy paupers who can't even afford a flint—how could either of them possibly produce an SSS-rank?!"

Halvard stopped.

Facing countless scrutinizing gazes, he said nothing.

He simply tightened his grip on the reins, forcing down the fury burning in his blood.

Inside the carriage, Morgana pulled back the curtain.

She wore black velvet gloves and sneered.

"Halvard, so what if you awaken a high-level bloodline?"

"Without family territory or resources, even a piece of bottom-of-the-barrel trash that awakens an ancestral bloodline is only fit to serve as cannon fodder on the battlefield."

She looked down arrogantly at his soot-stained coat.

"That rag you're wearing isn't even worthy of wiping my carriage wheels."

Before she could finish, an ancient, mournful horn tore through the night wind.

A deep wolf howl shattered the surrounding silence.

Four enormous direwolves clad in heavy armor thundered into the plaza, pulling a war chariot.

The crest of the Northern High Wolf King Council was emblazoned across the carriage.

The entire plaza fell silent.

Even Morgana straightened in alarm.

The carriage doors opened.

Several peak Alphas wearing silver-white cloaks and high-ranking Elder insignias strode down from the chariot.

The Grand Elder at the front ignored every noble trying to curry favor with him and walked straight toward Halvard.

"Bang!"

He dropped to one knee and struck his right fist against his left chest in an ancient, iron-blooded wolf salute.

"Lord Halvard!"

The Grand Elder's voice rolled across the plaza like thunder.

"We have come by order of the High Council to receive you."

"The armor blueprints you submitted have been verified by the military district."

"They are nothing short of a miracle!"

"The Council has decided to provide three million pure gold coins to purchase the military license!"

"At the same time, the Elders' Council has just confirmed that the bloodline awakening within you is the pure Ancient Lycan bloodline!"

"His Majesty the Wolf King has personally invited you to return to the military district and assume command as First Marshal of the Northern Iron Cavalry!"

He paused, then turned toward me and lowered his head respectfully.

"Furthermore, because Miss Thessaly has awakened the White Wolf bloodline, the Royal Sanctuary has issued the highest-level special admission decree!"

Boom!

Even the wind itself seemed to freeze across the plaza.

Clatter.

The goblet in Morgana's hand fell onto the carriage step.

Red wine splashed across the ground like a pool of cheap blood.

Beside her, Delphine's face turned paler than a corpse.