The world around William was dark, wet, and suffocating.
Every breath burned his throat as the sour stench of blood and rot filled his lungs, making his stomach twist.
His body was wedged tight between organs and bone, barely enough space to move. The pressure made it feel like the walls of flesh were closing in, ready to crush him alive.
He was still hiding inside the corpse of the Yeti — and now that corpse was being carried away by another monster.
Each step made the body sway, pressing William harder against the slick insides. Every movement reminded him just how powerless he was.
He couldn't see, but he could feel everything — the heavy thud of footsteps, the sway of the body, the deep crunch of snow under enormous weight.
His chest tightened. The wolves had been terrifying, but this was worse. He was buried alive, trapped inside the corpse of a beast, being carried by another that could easily tear him apart.
The dark, cramped space pressed against him. Every breath was thick with blood and decay, his lungs begging for air. Panic clawed at him.
He had no idea where he was being taken, and the not knowing made it worse.
Still, the warmth inside the corpse was a twisted kind of mercy. The cold couldn't reach him here. His numb hands tingled back to life, and he could move again — fingers curling, legs shifting, muscles returning to him bit by bit.
After what felt like hours of darkness and dread, the corpse finally stopped moving.
William froze. The body was set down on a hard surface. He held his breath and listened.
Nothing at first — just the heavy, slow breathing of the monsters outside. Then, a deep sigh. A sound that almost sounded like grief.
A few moments later, the footsteps started again, fading away until the cave fell silent.
William waited. One minute. Two. Five.
When he was sure it was gone, he pushed against the flesh above him.
His trembling hands sank into the slick insides as he clawed upward, tearing through organs and tissue. Blood clung to his arms and face as he forced his way out, the sound wet and heavy.
At last, he broke through.
The cold air hit him like a wave — damp, heavy, and freezing. Compared to the stink inside, it felt clean.
He collapsed onto the cave floor, covered in blood and guts, gasping. The stone beneath him was cold and rough. He tried to wipe his face, but the smell wouldn't go away.
The cave was large, jagged, and dimly lit by faint light from the entrance.
He turned to look at the Yeti's body — massive, fur-soaked, red, chest torn open where he had crawled out.
The monster was gone, but the cave still felt dangerous. Every small sound made his heart jump.
He didn't have time to rest. He reached back into the corpse and felt around until his fingers closed on the sniper rifle.
'This thing's too big… maybe it can transform like the railgun mode,' he thought. But he didn't dare test it here. Any sound could give him away.
Slowly and quietly, he pulled the rifle free from the guts and gripped it tight.
Scanning the cave, he spotted the exit not far away and started toward it, moving fast but silent.
Driven by pure desperation, he just wanted out.
But when he reached the entrance, his steps stopped cold.
Outside was nothing but white. A blizzard raged across the land, snow and wind swirling so thick he couldn't even see the ground.
The wind screamed through the cave mouth, loud enough to drown his own breathing.
If he stepped out unprotected, the cold would kill him in minutes.
He thought about using magic — maybe a barrier or heat ward. But that would burn through his mana fast, and worse, it might attract nearby monsters. Either way, it was too risky.
His eyes drifted back to the corpse behind him.
'I could skin the Yeti,' he thought grimly. 'Use its fur as cover.'
He clenched his jaw. The idea made him sick.
'But if the bigger one comes back and finds this... it'll know. And it'll hunt me.'
Still, he had no choice.
He crouched behind the corpse, pulled out his rifle, and triggered the bayonet mode.
The mana blade hummed to life, its vibration echoing in the cave. William winced at the noise, pausing to listen before cutting.
The work was slow, rough, and sickening.
Each slice made a wet, tearing sound that echoed in the dark. Blood soaked his sleeves, and the warm stink of flesh filled the air. His stomach twisted, but he kept going.
Finally, after several long minutes, he pulled free a large piece of fur — thick, heavy, and dripping red. He wrapped it around himself. The warmth helped, but the sticky weight made him gag.
Then he froze.
Footsteps. Two sets.
Lighter than the monster, but still heavy enough to shake the ground.
William ducked behind the corpse and peeked over.
Two smaller yetis entered the cavern—around his height, round steps, pale white fur. Children.
Their wide eyes locked on the body. They whimpered and rushed over, pressing their small hands against the corpse.
They shook it once. Then again, harder. A low, broken cry came out.
They clawed at the arms, pushed at the chest, calling out as if their mother would wake up if they just tried hard enough.
But she didn't.
William gripped his rifle. His chest ached — not from fear this time, but something heavier.
No matter how long they cried, she wasn't getting up.
'I couldn't stay any longer,' he thought.
His trail was everywhere — bloody footprints, handprints, and the torn-open corpse. It wouldn't take long before they found him.
He whispered a spell. His body shimmered and vanished, along with his rifle and the fur wrapped around him.
Invisible, he crept toward the exit.
Behind him, the two young Yetis still cried over their mother. Their voices echoed, sharp and broken, through the cave.
Then one stopped.
Sniffling, it noticed the blood trail leading to the back of the corpse.
It followed the trail—then froze when it saw the missing patch of fur torn from its mother's back.
Its eyes went wide.
A shrill, piercing scream tore from its throat. The sound hit like thunder, shaking the cave walls and sending rocks falling from above.
William's heart slammed in his chest. He was already at the cave entrance, staring into the storm.
All he saw was white — no ground, no horizon, just snow. If he jumped, he didn't know how far he'd fall.
Then came the sound.
Heavy, thunderous footsteps.
The father Yeti.
It was enormous—so big it had to crawl to fit through the tunnel. Thick fur covered its massive frame, barely hiding muscles that looked ready to burst from its skin.
It stormed into the cave, massive body filling the tunnel. It saw the corpse, the blood, the missing fur — and it roared.
The roar wasn't just sound — it was power. The cave shook. The air itself vibrated.
The beast followed the blood trail to the entrance and looked out into the storm.
It spread its arms wide and slammed them together.
The shockwave shattered the blizzard. Snow and ice exploded off the cliffs, triggering a massive avalanche.
Outside, William was already falling. The shockwave hit him midair, hurling him downward even faster. His invisibility shattered — his body flickered back into view.
Above, the Yeti's furious eyes locked on him.
It saw the fur wrapped around his shoulders — the pelt of its mate.
The beast roared again, louder and deeper than before. The sound slammed into William like a wall, crushing his chest. Blood burst from his mouth and nose.
William staggered, dazed by the force of the roar.
The Yeti leaned out from the cave, its massive body framed in snow. It saw him dropping farther and farther away — then leapt.
It slammed its claws into the cliffside, hurling itself downward. The mountain boomed as it fell after him.
William's eyes widened. The storm cleared just enough for him to see the ground rushing up.
He had seconds. He forced mana into his hands. They glowed brown — earth magic.
Instead of bracing for impact, he cast his spell and dove. The moment before he hit the ground, the snow and rock gave way beneath him like water. He sank into the earth, burrowing deep to hide.
The Yeti didn't hesitate. It slammed its fist into the ground.
The impact ripped the earth apart. A crater burst open, dirt and stone flying everywhere. Its massive arm dug down and grabbed William's leg.
William gasped as he was yanked out.
Then came the beating.
The Yeti swung him like a club, slamming him into the ground again and again. Each impact shattered the earth and broke bones. Blood sprayed from his mouth, staining the snow.
Through the blur of pain, he raised his rifle and fired point-blank.
The shot tore through the Yeti's arm, flesh bursting open. The beast roared and threw him, sending him flying across the battlefield.
He crashed hard, rolling through snow and dirt. His vision blurred, his body wrecked, but he forced himself up.
Now the Yeti was focused. No more blind rage — it saw him as a real threat.
And it had already made its first mistake.
It gave him distance.
William raised his rifle and opened fire. Bullets screamed through the storm, every shot slamming into the Yeti's massive body.
The monster reacted fast, slamming its palm into the ground and flipping a wall of stone up in front of it.
But the rounds punched through it like paper, ripping into its chest and shoulders. Blood sprayed into the snow.
The Yeti staggered back, then glared at William — pure rage and vengeance burning in its eyes.
It roared and slammed both fists into the ground. Ice and rock exploded upward, massive chunks flying through the air. Then it hurled them forward and charged.
William didn't stop shooting. His rifle kicked against his shoulder, muzzle flashing through the blizzard. Bullets sparked through the flying debris, some tearing into the Yeti's arm.
As the debris closed in, blue light flickered in William's eyes. A thin shield of mana formed around him, deflecting shards of ice and stone.
The yeti closed the distance fast, raising both arms as it jumped to smash him.
William was ready. Whispering a spell under his breath, he dashed forward at blinding speed.
He slid under the beast, firing upward as he moved.
The bullets ripped through its gut and chest. Hot blood rained down as the yeti howled and twisted in midair before crashing to the ground.
It clawed its way back up, bleeding and furious.
William stood back up, rifle steady, chest heaving, and blood flowing.
Before either could move, a deep rumble rolled through the mountain.
It started faint, like distant thunder, then grew louder — closer — until the ground itself began to shake.
Snow and ice broke loose from the cliffs above, pouring down in waves. The wind howled, carrying a low roar that drowned everything else.
Through the storm, a white wall began to form — massive, rolling, unstoppable.
Then it burst out of the blizzard, not falling but crashing forward like a tidal wave.
The yeti's eyes widened. It leapt aside, barely escaping the avalanche.
William wasn't so lucky.
The snow hit him like a freight train. The impact tore the rifle from his hands and spun him through the air.
He tried to fight it, to grab something, but there was nothing — only the storm swallowing him whole.
The world turned white as the mountain collapsed, burying everything under a sea of snow.