I wake up to hands squeezing my neck. I open my eyes and see her…
She may be wearing a mask, but I know it's her.
"Y-you son of a... bitch...!"
Her fingers dig into my throat like claws. I try to gasp for air, but only enough enters to keep me conscious.
My hands grope for the floor. They find the revolver.
I shoot her. Again.
And I wake up.
This is the fourth time I've had the same nightmare.
It's been four days since I've been trapped on this spaceship.
The air feels heavier, or maybe it's just my head. The fuselage groans every time the wind nudges the twisted metal, as if the ship is complaining about my presence—or counting down the hours until it collapses completely.
CLANG! CLANG!
"Good morning to you, too," I murmur.
As if the ship could understand me.
It's hard to sleep with a broken body and a Grimm lurking, just waiting for me to falter. The first night was easy, of course—but I don't think fainting counts as a good night's sleep.
I try to spend most of my time sleeping, trying to recover.
If I only had Aura, maybe I could recover and defend myself from the Grimm before it tears apart the spaceship and devours me alive.
Maybe.
When Winter unlocked Weiss's Aura on her birthday, I should have insisted she unlock mine too.
"Ah, man..." I sigh, utterly exhausted.
Perhaps I'll die here.
If that monster outside doesn't kill me, hunger will. The water's already gone, and the rations won't last more than two days.
It doesn't look like any rescue is coming. It's been four days—which probably means they think I'm dead and that I'm stranded somewhere far from Mistral's capital.
The wind howls through the torn roof of the spaceship, whistling as if mocking me.
I look up. The hole isn't large, but it's big enough for me to squeeze through if I try. The jagged metal edges are sharp, undulating like the teeth of a giant monster.
"Okay... I've got an idea."
First, I grab my revolver and shove it into my pocket.
I brace one hand against the cold, dust-covered metal side. With the other, I push myself upward, straining to reach the edge.
A sharp pain shoots through my ribs like an electric spark.
"Damn it..."
I take a deep breath—or try to—and force myself to try again. My hands grip a fold in the metal. It groans but holds firm.
I slowly pull myself up.
My foot slips on the slanted floor, but I manage to push myself upright. The hole looms closer. I brace my knee against the spaceship's inner wall and shove.
With a final lurch, my chest squeezes through the opening.
The frigid air outside strikes my face like a slap.
CLANG! CLANK!
"Well, look who's here..."
I finally get a good look at my inconvenient neighbor.
A compact, muscular boar-like body encased in irregular bone armor. Each movement sends tremors through the ground. A smooth, heavy bone mask covers its entire face, with two massive tusks curving outward like blades poised to strike any unsuspecting target.
A Boarbatusk. A medium-sized one, but still a Boarbatusk.
Thank the two brothers. I don't believe in them, but this deserves an amen.
If it were a larger type of Grimm, my plan might not work.
But what is the plan?
Fill the Grimm with bullets, obviously... well, not fill, since I only have ten rounds.
Six standard bullets and four Fire Dust rounds.
I don't want to brag, but I'm good at this. My personal shooting instructor always said I had a natural talent. And even though I prefer rifles, I can handle a revolver just fine.
Come to think of it, I should have hired a self-defense instructor too.
But none of that matters anymore.
What matters now is survival.
I only have four shots that truly count. Standard bullets made with gunpowder lack the power to pierce a Grimm, so I'll have to rely solely on Dust rounds.
Let's start with a headshot while it's distracted and hasn't noticed me yet.
I brace my forearm against the jagged edge of the fuselage, trying to steady my aim. The wind whips against my face, cold and biting.
He's down there, sniffing the ground near the shattered wing, completely oblivious to my presence. He's probably looking for something else to destroy, now that the main course is protected.
If he lifts his head... if he realizes I'm up here and decides to climb, I'm dead. There's nowhere to run. I won't have time to get back inside.
Ideally, I'd shoot him in the belly, where there are no bones to protect him, but from this angle, I don't have a clear shot.
"Just stay still... that's it... perfect."
I align my sights with his forehead.
BANG!
The shot hits—a dry impact at the center of the bone mask, small fragments flying like sparks from stone. The Boarbatusk recoils a step from the fire and force of the shot.
BANG!
The second shot strikes the same spot. A thin crack spreads across the mask.
This time, he lifts his head.
Red eyes meet mine.
"Oh, no..."
He scrapes his claws against the ground, snorting, already preparing to charge.
I pull the trigger.
BANG!
The third shot hits as he moves, piercing the crack and widening the fissure. He spins sideways, staggering for a split second—just one—before screeching and launching himself at me like a living projectile.
I try to keep it in my sights. The Grimm zigzags, each impact of its paws kicking up dirt, growing faster, closer.
Last bullet.
I take a quick breath. I aim.
BANG!
The bullet strikes precisely in the exposed opening. The Boarbatusk's head snaps grotesquely to the side, its legs lock up, and it crashes to the ground, sliding to a halt.
The black mist begins to rise even before the body stops moving.
Four shots. One less Grimm.
I'm still alive.
For a moment, I just stand there, breathing heavily, listening to the silence that has finally returned.
"...Right."
I holster my revolver.
Now that he's dead, nothing is keeping me here anymore.
Time to get out of here.
Staying here is just waiting for another Grimm to come, and this time it might not be a small Boarbatusk.
I need to gather all my remaining food and get some clothes. Fortunately, my suitcase is still intact, but I won't be able to move around the forest with it.
I think one of the dead White Fang members who died near the spaceship had a backpack.
—.---.---.---.
Fortunately, I was right—there was someone with a backpack. The problem was that the person carrying it was impaled on a tree branch.
A horrifying sight—they must have been impaled when they fell from the spaceship...
At least the backpack is intact.
The tree branch, stained with dried blood, is about to break... it just needs a little push...
BANG!
...or a gunshot.
The branch snaps with a wet crack, and the body plummets, hitting the ground with a heavy, unpleasant thud.
I hold my breath—more out of disgust than fear—and carefully descend to where the body fell. The backpack lies there, intact, merely dirtied from the fall and... well, the rest.
"Sorry, but I'm sure you won't miss it."
I kneel beside the backpack, careful not to step on anything... squishy. The zipper is half-stuck, probably from dried blood, but with a little force, it opens.
Inside, I find some useful items—finally, luck is on my side.
First, a broken Scroll with a cracked screen and wires sticking out.
Trash.
Beside the body lies half a bottle of water and a protein bar—not much, but enough to stave off hunger and thirst for a few more hours.
In the side pocket, I find 30 Lien. Maybe it will come in handy later; you can never have too much money.
When I open the backpack's inner pocket, something metallic clinks softly.
I pull it out... and almost smile.
A sealed cartridge containing six Wind Dust bullets.
It doesn't pierce Grimm, but it pushes them back, giving me a chance to escape.
I carefully tuck the cartridge into the inner pocket of my coat. This practically doubles my chances of survival if another large Grimm crosses my path.
I take a small sip from the bottle and turn back toward the spaceship—I need to retrieve the rest of my belongings.
And a coat.
It's freezing out here.