At least they should have, but what met him were two empty sockets that bled a thick, black liquid. Those empty holes seemed completely devoid of any light, as though someone had brutally carved out the tiger's skull and forgotten to fill them.
W-what kind of beast has eyes like this…With a horrified look, Damon forced his eyes to remain open under the crushing weight of the fear creeping into his mind.
He tightened his bleeding grip around the severed insect forearm as a bitter chill crept down his spine. However, when the moonlight shifted the massive silhouette, he suddenly noticed something terrifying.
His own face had begun to form within the dark pits of the beast's empty sockets.
As his body slowly succumbed to the cruel wintry environment, his copper skin became covered in aching patches of frost, and ice slowly formed along the tips of his hair.
What am I supposed to do now!!!Fighting seemed suicidal, and running was a losing game of stamina. Where would he even go? He knew absolutely nothing about this foreign land or how far away the nearest human settlement was. Without a weapon or a plan, his chances of survival looked bleak regardless of whatever martial arts abilities he possessed.
Although the beast remained motionless, he could already sense the bloodlust seeping through the freezing air.
As a solitary ambush predator, the instinctive drive to hunt was all the creature knew. The apex beasts of these shifting dimensions did not seek conflict out of malice; they operated purely on the biological mandate to consume and dominate territory.
I just need to get out of its sensory range then I'll make a break for it. He thought desperately.
In actuality, the mutated beast possessed unique sensory organs that far surpassed ordinary human limits, tracking thermographic signatures and cardiac rhythms. This made it practically impossible for Damon to lose it in the heavy snow. Nonetheless, he had to try.
As the suffocating anxiety of waiting drowned his mind, the tiger abruptly lowered its massive torso and compressed its powerful hind legs. The clay-tiled rooftop cracked violently beneath its heavy paws, and the beast launched itself through the air.
"That thing jumps that far!?" Damon cursed aloud as he watched the winter tiger move with such terrifying agility for something so large.
Instinctively, he threw himself to the side as the white blur descended from above. The snow exploded into the air as the tiger crashed into the exact spot he had occupied a moment prior, scattering chunks of ice and stone across the ruins.
Seeing the beast rapidly reorient and shrug off the landing, Damon took a sharp breath to steel his shattering nerves. The tiger had missed. If he was going to fight, now was the absolute best chance he would ever get.
Like a desperate gladiator, he charged forth and raised the sickle-like limb above his shoulders with both hands, then hacked down with all the strength he could muster.
But the beast's hide was far more durable than he could have ever anticipated.
Crack!
The sickle's edge shattered instantly upon contact, sending tiny, razor-sharp shards flying straight toward his face. At that moment, Damon felt a stinging pain spread across his cheeks and forehead as thin cuts sliced into his skin. His warm blood began trickling downward, however, he paid little attention to it as his eyes remained fixed on the tiger.
Or rather, the complete lack of injuries on its white fur.
How is that possible!?Damon flinched back and tried to turn and run away, but it was already too late.
Before he could even move an inch, something heavy lashed against his side, sending his body crashing violently toward the base of a nearby tree.
Thud!
As he collapsed into the chilling snow, he opened his mouth to scream. Yet, what spilled forth instead was a thick clump of blood. He felt a violent storm brewing inside his flesh as a terrible internal heat radiated through him, colliding harshly with the freezing air around his body.
"Haa—!"
As if to taunt him, the beast swiped its tail through the air like a cracked whip, demonstrating the very weapon that had just sliced completely open the side of his shirt.
Damon clenched his teeth as he watched in sheer disbelief. He had barely seen the trajectory of the attack. Even worse, if the creature's tail alone possessed that much blunt force strength, he could hardly imagine what would happen if those massive claws dug into him.
Unfortunately, the tiger did not give him time to dwell on the possibilities. Instead, the beast lowered its body once more and charged forward.
Already!?Ignoring the agony flaring throughout his body, Damon frantically spun around the thick tree trunk as the tiger neared.
Bang!
Wood chips exploded through the air a split second later as the creature's right foreleg easily destroyed the thick bark.
The strange heat intensified at his back as a crimson line of liquid and flesh was cleaved out, exposing his raw wounds to the freezing air. The sharp wisps of frigid currents seeped into the open injury without remorse, causing a blood-curdling scream to escape his throat.
"Haaagh!"
His body lurched forward as a torn strip of bloodied cloth drifted into the snow behind him.
With a distraught expression, Damon stumbled forward, his knees nearly buckling as the tiger prepared a follow-up attack. He hastily rolled through the deep snow before the claws could descend, immediately scrambling back to his feet in an attempt to calm his ragged breathing.
But how could he?
Whilst the adrenaline had already kicked in, the severe cold was rapidly invading his very bones. Nonetheless, he kept running, each desperate inhale colder than the last.
As he kept barreling through the dense forest, a massive fallen tree appeared in his sight, blocking his path up ahead. Twice as thick as the surrounding trees, its weathered bark was a darker shade of brown and featured several old cuts along the surface, some revealing a strangely red grain within.
Damon planted his foot against the bark and grabbed one of the exposed roots without hesitation. Using the agility he had earned through four hard years of combat training, he pulled himself up and over the massive barrier in a single attempt.
Rip!
As he landed on the other side, his torn shirt sleeve snagged a sharp root, and a new wound opened along his bicep. At once, he hunched over, coughing violently as his teeth began to chatter uncontrollably from the shock.
Bang!
Just then, the tiger smashed straight through the fallen tree as easily as the last, acting as an unfeeling, living battering ram. Splinters exploded outward like shrapnel, and a heavy chunk of flying bark caught him square in the back, sending him sprawling face-first into the freezing snow.
The heavy impact drove the remaining air from Damon's lungs for what felt like the tenth time in the past few minutes.
His vision swam as he tried to push himself up using his remaining strength. Concussed and barely able to keep his eyes open, he saw the white tiger already charging toward him through the settling cloud of frozen debris.
Move. Move!His legs wouldn't respond.
Of all the times for it to give out… now?!Damon's heart seized as he realized his right ankle would not budge a single inch.
He desperately tried flexing the muscles as the back of his knee began to swell rapidly. At the same time, a sudden memory of the training room and a disastrous lesson flashed through his mind.
The kick! I kicked Diana with this leg!As that sudden thought echoed, the terrifying sound of the beast's low panting reached his ears.
It closed the distance in seconds, pouncing directly upon him.
Discerning that the beast planned to clamp its jaws around his neck or head, Damon decisively raised his right forearm and shoved it directly between the massive canines smeared in green fluid.
His nostrils flared as the tiger's hot, rancid breath pressed against his face, and his arm was violently jerked back. But what came after was far worse than the impact.
The beast thrashed its head around, carving through his flesh and shattering bone with ease. Its teeth acted as a butcher's ruthless blade. As those deathly jaws took what they desired, Damon lost all sensation in his arm, his vision showered in a spray of his own blood.
A primal, agonized scream broke free from his vocal cords as the blood pumped from the stump of his shoulder in rhythmic, terrifying spurts. It stained his hair a deep red, and the clear white snow soon followed suit.
Sniff! Sniff!
The tiger raised its bloody snout high as if enjoying the rich aroma of iron, then stepped back before dropping the severed arm onto the ground.
Was my arm not enough!?Damon's expression worsened to pure despair upon seeing this.
Suddenly, his frantic thoughts halted as the beast lowered its head instead of attacking him further. It began to consume the cold flesh directly off the bone, tearing strips away with a deliberate, sadistic leisure—all the while its empty gaze leered at the rest of his limbs with sinister delight.
Met with his ominous reflection in those bleeding sockets once again, Damon's mind finally caved.
He sank his remaining fingers into the snow and began dragging his weakened body against the frozen ground. The bloody stump flowed like a stream, leaving a dark, crimson trail behind him.
But Damon did not care anymore. His head was already growing light from the massive blood loss. His vision blurred heavily at the edges, shapes losing their definition until he could barely see where he was crawling.
Behind him, the sickening sound of the beast's chewing had stopped.
Yet, Damon kept crawling forward, cold, numb, and terrified.
His legs had gone completely numb a few seconds ago; whether from the biting cold, the blood loss, or the shattered nerves in his spine, he could not tell. He suspected he would never get to use them ever again, even if he somehow managed to survive this night.
"I don't want to die!"
Damon never thought he would have been dealt such a horrific hand twice in a single day.
Like the cries of any other dying animal, his voice cracked and echoed weakly across the quiet forest before descending into a slow, pathetic whimper. After three minutes of struggling, the movement only made his body more sluggish.
I-I'm feeling… really tired…
Maybe I should… I should…
This stuff… isn't so bad for a bed? And Mr. Tiger must be starving...As he drifted away into unconsciousness, Damon was lost in a peaceful reverie. His now swollen fingers grabbed a small clump of snow and smothered it loosely against his palm.
At that exact moment, a voice drifted into his ears, incredibly quiet and calm.
"You'll catch a cold resting there, boya."
"Huh…?" Hearing that strange, playful tone, Damon tried to lift his heavy gaze, responding with a low mutter.
But he could only make out a blurry figure in flowing white robes staring down at him with her arms folded across her chest, a warm, serene smile gracing her lips. She wore immaculate white garments that seemed almost to glow against the harsh snow, and her long grey hair was tied back in a simple, traditional knot.
"There's no need to strain your eyes. I'm just a weary old woman, that's all." The woman's smile widened.
It might have been his fading imagination, but Damon could have sworn there was a subtle pause right before she claimed to be an old woman.
"Please... help me…" He opened his dry mouth to ask for help, but the desperate words came out as barely an audible whisper. He was worried she wouldn't hear him; she looked well over sixty, after all, and Vincent had once warned him that old people often had trouble with their ears.
At the sudden sight of this new party, the tiger—a completely silent predator throughout the entire chase—let out a mighty, deafening roar that shook the heavy snow from the surrounding trees.
It then lunged directly at Damon's exposed back.
In an instant, the old woman took a single, effortless step forward, placing herself squarely between the bleeding boy and the lunging beast. Damon caught a passing glimpse of something strapped by her waist. It looked like a simple wooden training sword, seemingly without any sharp edge.
However, a fraction of a second later, he distinctly heard the unmistakable, resonant sound of fine steel being drawn from a scabbard.
Shing!
What followed was the sharp sound of the very air being sliced apart, as heavy thuds echoed like large rocks being thrown into a deep, calm lake.
Damon watched in absolute shock as massive segments of frozen flesh—the tiger's flesh—fell into the snow around her feet. Half of the beast's severed head landed just inches from his face, its empty sockets still perfectly reflecting his pathetic visage.
The old woman then turned her head to look down at him, acting as though she had merely swatted an annoying fly, her calm smile entirely unchanged.
"Who ar—" Damon's voice completely failed him. Before he could finish those final words, his body finally gave out, and a wave of absolute darkness swallowed him whole.