The monster's pupil-less white eyes were fixed on the grass hut where Wei and Chun were hiding—lifeless, yet unerringly precise.
The gaze did not seem to focus, and yet it felt as though it had already pierced the walls, the window slats, the shadows themselves, and settled squarely on them.
It was not seeing.
It was scenting—
A hunting instinct beyond sight, pinning them firmly onto its list of prey.
The next instant, it split its mouth into a "smile."
It was not a human smile.
The corners of its mouth tore wide, almost to the ears, revealing two rows of jagged, saw-like teeth. Dark stains still clung between them, not yet dry.
"ROAR—!"
A low bellow rolled across the square, as if dragged up from the depths of hell. The sound shook the scorched beams and broken bricks around them, sending loose debris rattling down. Stones tumbled from ruined walls and struck the ground with hollow, abrupt echoes.
The monster, clad in golden arm guards, moved like a walking god of war. It began to advance toward the hut.
Its heavy steps crushed into the ash, each one leaving a clear depression behind.
It was not in a hurry.
Not eager to kill.
Not eager to tear out its prey's throat.
Like a hunter who had long since finished setting the trap, it paced patiently around the cage, making sure there was no way out.
The night wind howled, stirring ash and the stench of burned wood. The air was thick with the sharp smell of cinders and the sickly sweetness of death. The odor flooded Wei's nose, twisting his stomach into knots.
Weakly, he lowered the small shutter and collapsed back onto the edge of the bed, clutching his head with both hands.
This was not something he could fight.
This was absolute domination, with no chance of victory.
And yet, his mind refused to stop.
The door.
The window.
The low wall behind the hut.
He measured distances in his head, calculated every possible route—
If the monster smashed through the door, could he rush out under cover of flying dust?
If he climbed out the back window, could he vanish into the forest under the cover of night?
The thoughts barely formed before he strangled them himself.
The door was too thin.
It wasn't protection—it was a flimsy excuse pasted over death.
The back window was too low. The moment he went through, he would be fully exposed, right in front of the monster.
As for the wall—
He could already picture it: halfway over, grabbed straight out of the air by that massive hand.
One by one, the paths lit up in his mind—
Then one by one, they went dark.
No exceptions.
Fear surged like a tide and swallowed him whole. The footsteps outside grew closer, heavier, circling, like beasts tightening a ring around their prey.
He froze, barely daring to breathe.
All he could hear was the monster's slow, heavy breathing, like wind passing through a hollow iron pipe. Cold crept up his spine and into his chest, nearly freezing his thoughts solid.
And then—
The footsteps stopped.
Not in front of the door.
But slightly off to the side.
Wei's pupils shrank.
He heard it moving around the hut. Heavy steps crunched over scorched earth, then over loose stones, close—far too close.
For a moment, he felt certain it was right outside the window, separated from him by nothing but a thin plank of wood.
Its breath was near.
So near it felt as if it would pour through the cracks at any second.
It was sniffing.
Confirming.
Savoring the wait before the kill.
That lack of urgency was more cruel than any roar.
Just then—
Something brushed lightly against the back of his hand.
Wei jolted as if struck by lightning and looked down.
It was Chun.
She was trembling—not violently, but in the way someone does when they've already pushed themselves past control. Her fingertips were icy, her knuckles white, yet she clung stubbornly to the corner of his clothes.
Only then did Wei truly wake up.
Shame flared through him like fire—
For that brief moment, he had thought only of himself.
He drew a slow breath, forced down the panic threatening to explode in his chest, and murmured softly as he placed a steadying hand on Chun's shoulder.
She looked up at him.
There were no tears in her eyes.
No plea for help.
She simply nodded, very lightly.
That look steadied his breathing.
Wei wiped his face, clenched his teeth, and stood.
He drew the hunting knife from his belt. In the dim light, the blade caught a thin line of cold reflection—brief, but unmistakable.
He stepped in front of Chun without a word, back straight, like a rock bracing itself against an oncoming storm.
Outside, the footsteps resumed.
This time, the direction was unmistakable.
One step.
Then another.
Each one struck his heart like a hammer.
The floor began to tremble. Dust sifted down from the beams as if the hut itself were groaning under the pressure of what approached.
Sweat slicked his palm, the knife handle threatening to slip, and he tightened his grip even more.
Dry straw rustled overhead, a few strands falling down his collar, cold and itching.
He didn't dare spare even a blink.
He knew it now—
There would be no escape tonight.
A faint movement came from behind him.
Chun quietly climbed to her feet, lifted an old wooden stool, and stood at his side.
She was too close.
So close that Wei could feel her heartbeat—one beat after another—almost falling into rhythm with his own.
And in that moment, he understood one thing with brutal clarity—
If he fell, she wouldn't even get the chance to run.
The thought drove into his chest like a nail.
"Come on!"
The boy roared, his voice tearing through the suffocating air inside the hut.
In that instant, fear retreated and courage surged.
All escape routes, all calculations, all false hope—
He cut them down in a single stroke.
If he was going to be devoured—
Then he would draw his blade and meet it head-on.