Rolin turned—
and ran uphill.
But the mountain laughed.
He had barely taken a few steps
before the brutal truth struck him—
the beast had already closed the distance.
The air split behind him.
Then—
IMPACT.
Massive claws tore into Rolin's thigh,
ripping through flesh as if it were soaked paper.
His scream exploded through the forest—
the scream of a creature stripped of humanity for a heartbeat—
as he crashed into the snow, writhing,
pain devouring his consciousness in a single surge.
The beast withdrew its claws slowly…
with sickening calm,
then released a low, irritated sound,
as if this body
were nothing more than a dull toy.
A paw pressed against Rolin's back.
Crack.
Crack.
Shatter.
Bones fractured.
Some collapsed completely.
Agony detonated in Rolin's chest.
Damn it—why is this bastard so strong?!
Then—
The beast drove its claws into his back.
RIP.
Three massive, gaping wounds
opened like screaming mouths.
Warm blood poured out.
Cold air stabbed into the flesh
like needles.
Rolin screamed—
a scream that made the snow tremble.
The beast stepped back.
It wasn't in a hurry.
Rolin bit down hard enough to taste blood,
and with a trembling hand drew the crimson dagger,
forcing his shattered body to rise.
He thrust the blade toward the beast's throat—
But…
Nothing.
The dagger struck the thick fur
and fell uselessly into the snow.
The beast raised its claws.
Not like an animal.
Like an executioner.
They came down with terrifying speed.
Rolin yanked his head aside—
Too late.
The tiger's claws tore out his left eye
and split his face open,
from brow
to cheek.
The pain was—
unbearable.
Rolin collapsed again,
snow beneath him turning crimson,
trees groaning as wind scraped through their branches.
And the beast—
did not want to eat him.
Because it wasn't hungry.
It wanted only—
to enjoy this.
Claws plunged into Rolin's right side.
Three more wounds
opened his body.
The world began to dim.
Rolin lay in the snow,
red spreading around him.
Damn it…
Did I delay it?
Just a few minutes?
Am I really this weak?
Pain swallowed him.
And when he lifted his head—
he saw the beast turning away,
heading back toward the crossroads.
No…
I didn't stop it from reaching her…
He tried to rise.
Pain screamed.
But—
he forced himself.
Then—
he saw it.
The leather bag.
And remembered.
Now… I understand.
He crawled to it,
grasped it with his right hand,
and in that instant
knew exactly what to do.
He turned toward the retreating beast
and shouted, his voice hoarse with fury:
"Hey, son of a bitch!
Who told you you could walk away?
This isn't over!"
The beast stopped.
Turned.
The boredom in its red eyes
shifted—
into decision.
It chose to end the game.
Rolin screamed again:
"Show me what you've got!"
The beast charged.
Its massive jaws opened wide.
Long fangs bared.
Razor teeth gleamed.
Rolin stood his ground.
And at the instant the beast lunged—
he slammed the leather bag
with all his strength
into its mouth.
The jaws snapped shut.
They tore the bag away—
along with Rolin's arm.
Rolin crashed to the ground.
"AAAAAAHHH!"
Blood dripped from the beast's chin
as it advanced slowly
to finish him.
Then—
it convulsed.
Its body twisted violently.
It opened its mouth
and spat blood.
Novak's poison—
took effect.
In that moment, Rolin understood.
Understood why Likath
had told Novak
to fill a vial with his toxin.
How much did you know, soldier?
Rolin stared at the writhing beast—
and realized—
this wasn't enough.
He spotted the dagger in the snow.
Grabbed it with his left hand.
Stood.
Approached.
And said, his voice calm… terrifying:
"Take this gift."
He drove the dagger
into the beast's left eye.
Its scream erupted.
With a single motion,
he slashed the other eye open.
He pulled the blade free.
The beast screamed,
spat,
thrashed.
Rolin drew out
the metal sphere
Likath had given him.
Pressed it.
He smiled.
"I'm not out of tricks yet, you bastard."
And threw it
into the beast's mouth.
It swallowed.
Seconds later—
the blood it spat
turned into pale blue flame,
spreading across its fur,
igniting it.
But—
the beast
was still alive.
Damn it… just die already!
Rolin turned—
and saw it in the distance.
A massive stone arch,
crumbling,
standing like a forgotten memory.
He clenched his teeth,
pressed his hand to his torn thigh,
and ran uphill through the trees.
The beast was blind now.
It relied only on sound.
Rolin shouted:
"Follow me, you charred furball!"
The beast abandoned any attempt to extinguish the flames.
It had one goal now—
kill this wretched thing.
It charged after him,
crashing into trees,
toppling them,
setting them ablaze.
But it didn't stop.
The scene was surreal—
a bleeding boy
fleeing from a giant tiger
engulfed in blue fire
on a frozen mountain peak
in a midnight forest.
"Damn it—why am I always cursed?!"
The beast was faster.
But blindness betrayed it.
It slammed into everything.
Rolin ran—
the arch drawing closer.
Clearer.
Nearer.
But the beast
was closing in too.
The next minutes
stretched into a killing eternity.
Until—
only meters remained
between Rolin and the arch.
And the same distance
between him and the beast.
"Come on… damn it…!"
Then—
he reached it.
He dove behind one of the arch's pillars.
And screamed:
"Come to your death, you bastard!"
The blind beast followed the sound.
Then—
Impact.
Cracking.
Collapse.
The massive stone arch
gave way.
And fell—
with all its weight
onto the burning beast.
Crushing it.
Rolin exhaled in relief—
Then—
something moved.
It twitched.
"Damn it…
what the hell is this thing made of?!"
He tightened his grip on the dagger.
Stepped closer.
And drove it
slowly
into the beast's throat.
This time—
it worked.
The screaming stopped.
The movement ceased.
The beast was dead.
Rolin collapsed into the snow—
Exhausted.
Broken.
Alive.
Victorious.