Noon was at its peak, blessing the frigid biome's creatures with its warmth and radiance. A few hours earlier, Corvus too would have been one of those creatures who relished this privilege, yet now his countenance held only annoyance. The cold of the lower heights barely affected a Mundukar; it was the sun’s blinding glare that plagued him, blurring his focus as he pressed on.

  Drenched in scarlet, Corvus teemed with strength, yet his pace remained sluggish. For his body was on the verge of collapse from the wounds he had sustained so far.

  All this power and I can't even walk properly. Shouldn't I heal faster now that I've attained Unity... That geezer better not have joked with me, or I swear—

  His thoughts were interrupted by a low growl from behind. Turning his head, he saw a white wolf several meters behind him.

  This one's still following me. Does it really think it could kill me—keep dreaming, dog.

  The wolf's body was littered with slash marks, though none proved fatal. It was the last survivor of its pack—that had been mercilessly butchered by Corvus. Its fur was streaked with scarlet, as if it carried the will of its fallen across its scarred body.

  The wolf's eyes seethed with hatred for Corvus. It longed to tear, mangle, and devour him. Yet it only meekly trailed behind.

  It had survived so far, in part by keeping its distance, but mostly because Corvus was in no condition to give a chase, nor did he consider the wolf a serious threat. Although, had he looked into its frenzied, malice-lit eyes, he might have thought otherwise.

  The blazing sun gradually slumped beyond the horizon, painting the sky in deep red, streaked with blue and black, and softened occasionally by a lilac hue.

  Corvus had traveled far, and now a massive mountain peak blocked his path. Unlike the other summits of the Silent Heights, which stretched parallel to the road, this one stood perpendicular—its broad base veiling the horizon like a colossal stone wall.

  He considered his options carefully: he could either ascend the mountain and hope that civilization lay ahead, or climb the plateau and follow the road. Both choices carried their own risks:

  The first was full of uncertainties.

  The second, fraught with danger; he suspected another ambush by the Oathkeepers there.

  Fine. I'll do both.

  Corvus planned to ascend the mountain first, then make sure if the Oathkeepers were gone for good. Only then would he take the road.

  Having made up his mind, he began his trek up the peak.

  The wolf trailing behind him whimpered and stepped back.

  Someone's finally getting nervous, huh, Corvus scoffed.

  The wolf shook them off its hesitation and followed after him.

  The mountain's snowy expanse made it difficult to track direction, but the red sun in the sky served as Corvus's eternal compass. Charting his way up, he never once paused until the road came in sight.

  By now even the faint light of twilight faded seamlessly behind a moonless night sky. The ground illuminated only by the grace of constellations twinkling in the heavens.

  Casting a long glance behind him, he saw the Silent Heights in all its chilling glory, the serene glow of the stars lent the scene an otherworldly calm.

  The ground below, covered in debris and snow, appeared white and murky. However, a patch of land far away from him—in stark contrast to its surrounding terrain—was painted in deep red. It was the spot where Corvus had slaughtered the pack.

  Below him, the wolf too gazed at the scarlet patch; its spiteful eyes gave way to a doleful look for a fleeting moment, before again igniting with rancour.

  Corvus solemnly looked at the wolf, and thought, You wanted a fight, and you got one. Don't complain now.

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  The wolf looked up, and stared into Corvus's eyes for a while, before he shrugged and moved on. The wolf, however, kept staring into nothingness. Its already fuming eyes became bloodshot red—threatening to burst out.

  Leaving the enthralling scene behind him, Corvus dropped in prone position and silently observed the road ahead of him. He scanned for any sign of an ambush, but found none.

  I refuse to believe those bastards left in just one day. They're here, I can sense it , but I just can't put my finger on it. Should I—

  Again the wolf's growl interrupted him.

  He turned back in anger—but the wolf did not move. It neither cowered in fear nor fled in panic. It simply sat a dozen meters away, tail curled before it, staring at him with eerie calm.

  "Finally lost your mind in rage, huh, rabid dog. Come on then, I'll put you out of your misery. Say hello to your friends from me," Corvus spoke taking a step forward.

  The wolf remained impassive, its wrathful gaze too was nowhere to be seen—replaced by a bleak, hollow gaze that had made its resolve.

  Staring at the starlit sky, the wolf inhaled a long breath and let out a deep, sonorous howl that echoed throughout the mountain. Repeatedly howling into the open sky, each of its subsequent cries grew more uneven, more intense, and more desperate.

  Looks like the mutt really has lost it.

  Corvus was perplexed, he could not see the logic behind the wolf's painful howls.

  Is it calling for help, but its pack can't possibly be spread across such a vast terrain. So, it's not a friend, that's for sure. Then is it...

  Unfortunately, his realization came too late to stop the wolf now, for it had already beckoned the mountain's apex predators.

  Suddenly, on a mountain rock behind the wolf, six giant feline silhouettes emerged silently. From one side, two more feline silhouettes approached, while from beneath another two paced toward their direction.

  Three of the six figures approached the wolf, which had fallen silent—its purpose fulfilled, having summoned foes strong enough to avenge its fallen kin. The figures stepped out of the mountain’s shade, revealing thick white-spotted fur and long tails, each nearly half their body’s length.

  These are white leopards or snow leopards, if I'm correct. But why are they so gigantic—and in a pack!

  Indeed, these snow leopards were abnormally enormous, nearly twice as big as the white wolves, in fact calling them monsters would not be entirely incorrect.

  The three leopards began circling the wolf at an even pace. The wolf paid them no heed, its gaze fixed solely at Corvus, which screamed something that only he heard: you are next.

  Abruptly, one of the leopards seized the wolf’s head, while another locked its jaws around its abdomen. In tandem, they yanked their heads away. The wolf was ripped in two as if it were mere paper; only a single string of intestine tethered the halves of its body.

  Corvus's eyes widened in shock and every hair on his body stood up. He felt something he had never felt before: a chill.

  Though this chill was not a result of the cold air or even his blood loss, but rather due to the primal instinct of man called fear. It was the chill of dread.

  Even in the midst of overwhelming odds, he had always maintained equanimity, but now it shattered. For facing against him were no beasts or humans with monster-like attributes, but actual monsters.

  The leopards hurled the wolf's body in two opposite directions, snapping the intestinal string in two. One half of its body landed behind them, before the three snow leopards, while its other half near the remaining four leopards.

  Corvus could not properly watch the three leopards as their figures were obscured in the shadows. But the four leopards, whom he could see, shredded and devoured the wolf's meat in the blink of an eye.

  Having dealt with one of the trespassers, their feral eyes now settled on Corvus.

  That suicidal mutt—that's why he was shaking when entering here.

  Exerting all his inhuman strength, Corvus leapt deeper into the mountains; the leopards furiously pursued him. His wounds, which had only just stopped bleeding, began to reopen as he performed every maneuver he could think of. Yet the leopards were never far behind, who gracefully moved on the hilly terrain.

  I can't shake them off; these monsters know this mountain a lot better than I do. I'll have to hide somewhere.

  On the far side of the mountain he noticed an opaque sheet of mist and snow shrouding the space.

  Perfect.

  He dashed toward the blizzard and entered it without a second thought. Instantly, the cold, violent tempest assailed his senses—he could neither hear through the roaring winds nor see beyond the impenetrable haze that had swallowed everything.

  Glancing back, he saw the ten snow leopards standing just outside the blizzard, though none dared to approach.

  Keep waiting; I'm not coming back.

  However, navigating one's path inside the blizzard was near impossible—Corvus learned this the hard way. After moving through the storm for some time, he found himself back to where he had begun; the majestic leopards sitting behind confirmed this.

  Damn! Fine, I'll just look below at my footsteps. As long as I don't see them, it'd mean at the very least that I'm not moving in a circle.

  Corvus employed a new technique, but the outcome remained the same; he found himself staring at the leopards yet again. The storm wiped away his footprints as soon as he left them.

  Utterly frustrated and exhausted, he took a reckless approach—advancing where the blizzard raged hardest, withdrawing where it waned.

  Although this method bore fruit as the leopards were no longer in sight, but it also exacted a heavy toll on his already failing body. He could scarcely lift a finger, let alone raise his blade again.

  Escaping the storm did not even come to his mind, for he knew he was lost. All he could do was survive the next second—and even that seemed a tall order.

  Is that...

  Miraculously, on the verge of collapse, he noticed faint flickers of fire slipping through the opaque mist. Gathering what little strength he had left, Corvus dragged himself—toward the flame of hope.