Without warning, the creature made its move. Its massive foreleg shifted and pressed into Noah's side, just beneath his ribs.
A cold shock of pain shot through his body as the beast's rough, calloused limb dug into his flesh. His already pale face turned a shade lighter as his body tensed in panic.
He couldn't move. Couldn't scream. Couldn't even look at the monster that held him pinned beneath its weight.
Then, with frightening ease, the Kaiju lifted him off the ground. Noah's chest was fully exposed, hanging helplessly in the air. His mind raced, but no coherent thought formed as the reality of his impending death gripped him.
The beast's leg swung, not with full force—just enough to toy with him, to make its dominance clear. And despite the restraint, the kick was devastating. It slammed into Noah's chest with a bone-shaking impact, sending him flying backward.
Pain shot through every nerve in his body, radiating out from his chest like wildfire.
He hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from his lungs, every breath a struggle. The agony was overwhelming.
Even though the Kaiju hadn't used its full strength, that single blow was enough to bring Noah to the brink of unconsciousness.
A kick like that, from an E+-ranked Kaiju, would cripple even an upper dormant ranked awakened fighter. But Noah was no fighter.
He was just an ordinary human, powerless, broken, lying in a heap as the looming shadow of the beast closed in once more.
Noah felt like he had been hit by a massive truck. The moment the Kaiju's leg connected with his chest, the world exploded into pain.
He could feel his ribs shatter under the impact, jagged bone fragments scraping against his lungs. The sheer force of the kick lifted him off the ground, sending him skidding across the dirt.
His left hand struck something hard as he tumbled, leaving another bruise, but the throbbing ache in his torso far eclipsed any other pain.
"Aaargh!" he cried out, the agony too much to bear. His body convulsed with each breath, every intake of air a fresh stab of torment. It was unbearable. He wished, in that moment, for it all to end. For the beast to finish the job and spare him the suffering.
He glanced at the Kaiju, expecting it to lunge forward and rip his head clean off. But instead, it just circled him, its predatory eyes gleaming with dark amusement. The beast was toying with him. Playing with him like he was some insignificant prey.
"How am I still alive?" Noah wondered, surprised that his lungs hadn't collapsed from the blow. His ribs were broken, yet somehow, he was still breathing.
He didn't need anyone to explain that the Kaiju was holding back, savoring its dominance.
He let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "Even a beast finds me useless." The thought stung more than the pain. His lips curled into a weak smile, mocking his misfortune.
Noah's vision blurred as the pain threatened to drag him into unconsciousness. His mind teetered on the edge, his body screaming for respite. The Kaiju was pacing slowly, its massive frame casting a dark shadow over him.
He had already accepted his fate. Death was coming, and there was no one to save him. Not that it mattered. He had no family- no more, no friends. Except for one person close to death, no one would mourn him. No one would even notice he was gone.
He wanted to scream at the Kaiju, to curse its cruelty, but he stayed silent. He couldn't risk provoking it. What if the creature decided to make his death even more excruciating?
As Noah lay there, his gaze drifted upward to the sky. Amid the dull, clouded expanse, something strange caught his eye. A white streak, sharp and distinct, seemed to dance in the sky. It was long, stretching about five meters, and moved in a graceful, curved arc.
But something wasn't right. The streak was changing direction. Slowly at first, then faster, hurtling downward—straight toward him. Noah blinked, unsure if his mind was playing tricks on him. Maybe it was a hallucination, a side effect of being so close to death.
He glanced back at the Kaiju, but the beast seemed oblivious. It didn't see the streak or sense it. Noah found that odd. Even the lowest-ranked Kaiju had heightened senses, yet this one remained entirely unaware of the phenomenon above them.
The white streak moved faster now, descending with terrifying speed. It seemed real enough, but Noah was too far gone to care. He closed his eyes, assuming it was just another hallucination brought on by the trauma. Better to let go and embrace death than to cling to false hopes.
But before his consciousness fully slipped away, he heard something—an eerie whistling sound cutting through the air. Then, a heavy thud.
Noah's eyes shot open. The Kaiju, the terrifying creature that had been playing with him, lay motionless on the ground.
A fist-sized hole was drilled cleanly through its head, its lifeless body collapsing with a deafening crash. The beast hadn't even realized it was dead.
**
Noah slowly blinked awake, disoriented by the unfamiliar sight of a white ceiling above him. His mind was foggy, the memories of the previous day slipping through his grasp like water through his fingers.
"What… happened?" he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. His thoughts came in fragments, images flashing in his mind—of the Kaiju, of pain, of something streaking through the sky. But it all felt distant, like a bad dream.
"A dream… was it just a dream?" His head throbbed as he tried to make sense of it all. Then, it hit him.
"The beast!" His eyes shot open wide as everything came flooding back. He had been on the verge of death.
The Kaiju, the kick that had shattered his ribs, and then… that strange white streak. He instinctively reached for his chest, expecting to feel the jagged pain of broken bones.
But there was nothing. No pain. No injury. His ribs, which the Kaiju's kick had shattered, were somehow completely healed.
'Huh?'
The thought of all his life being a bad dream that he just woke up from popped up in his mind, but he immediately discarded it.
He knew it wasn't a dream—no matter how he wished it was.
He looked around the room, confusion swirling in his mind.
To his right, a window allowed the soft rays of morning sunlight to filter in through blue curtains.
He glanced down at the bed beneath him—clean, white sheets. Not his own.
"I'm in a hospital…"