The frozen wind screamed around Shroud as he trudged through the endless white expanse, his breath coming in labored gasps. His makeshift cloak—crafted from the ice wolf's hide—offered scant protection against the biting cold, but it was better than nothing. Each step felt like a battle, the snow pulling at his legs and the frost numbing his limbs.
The adrenaline from the fight earlier had long since faded, leaving behind the dull throb of his wounds and an emptiness gnawing at his stomach. Hunger clawed at him with the ferocity of the wolf he had slain, and his throat burned from thirst.
He pressed on, knowing that stopping would mean certain death. Yet with every step, his vision blurred, his body screaming for him to rest.
A faint shape appeared on the horizon—a smudge of shadow in the endless whiteness. Shroud squinted, hope flickering within him. It could be shelter or, at the very least, a place to regroup. He pushed forward, his legs trembling beneath him.
As he drew closer, the shape resolved into a cluster of jagged rocks, their blackened edges jutting out like the broken teeth of some ancient beast. Among the rocks lay a small hollow, just large enough to shield him from the wind.
Shroud collapsed inside, his body sagging with relief. The wind's fury lessened, and for the first time in hours, he felt a sliver of peace. But peace was fleeting. His stomach growled loudly, the sound echoing in the small cavern.
The wolf's meat. He had dragged some of it with him after the fight, hoping to use it later. Now was the time.
With trembling hands, Shroud retrieved the frozen chunks of flesh from beneath his cloak. He grimaced at the sight; the meat was raw, its surface covered in frost. He had no fire to cook it, no tools to prepare it properly. His lips cracked as he swallowed hard, debating what to do.
"Eat or die," he muttered, his voice a rasp in the quiet.
He bit into the frozen meat, his teeth aching as they tore through the tough flesh. The taste was awful—iron and salt mixed with the bitterness of frost. Each swallow felt like a betrayal of his body, but it was sustenance, and that was all that mattered.
As he chewed, his mind wandered back to his Pathway. The Wraithwalker. The trial. He had barely tapped into its power during the first fight, and even then, it had drained him almost to the point of collapse. If he didn't figure out how to use it effectively, he wouldn't survive the next encounter.
His thoughts were interrupted by a noise outside the cavern—a low rumble, faint but distinct.
Shroud froze, his heart pounding. He set the meat aside and crawled toward the entrance, peering out into the storm. At first, he saw nothing but the swirling snow. Then the ground shook, a tremor so subtle he might have thought it was his imagination.
The rumble came again, louder this time. Something was moving out there. Something big.
Shroud's grip tightened on the empty air where his sword had been. The weapon was gone, unsummoned after the previous fight. He couldn't afford to waste time—if another monster found him, he had to be ready.
Closing his eyes, he reached deep within himself, searching for the thread of energy that connected him to the Wraithwalker Pathway. The effort was exhausting; his body protested every second of the process.
The spectral energy flickered weakly, struggling to manifest. Shroud gritted his teeth, focusing harder. Slowly, the hilt of his double-edged sword began to take shape, its ethereal glow illuminating the cavern.
The rumbling grew louder, accompanied by the crunch of snow under heavy footsteps.
Shroud pressed his back against the rock, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing. The beast outside let out a guttural roar, its sound reverberating through the storm.
The creature emerged from the blizzard—a frost-bear, its massive form covered in jagged ice. Its glowing blue eyes scanned the area, steam rising from its nostrils with each breath.
Shroud's pulse quickened. This wasn't like the wolf he had fought before. The bear was larger, more powerful, and radiated an aura of primal ferocity. He wasn't sure if he could win this fight, not in his current state.
The bear sniffed the air, its head turning toward the cavern. Shroud held his breath, praying it would move on. But fate wasn't so kind. The bear let out a deafening roar and charged.
Shroud barely had time to react. He rolled to the side as the beast barreled into the cavern, its claws tearing through the rock where he had been moments before. The cavern shook from the impact, loose stones raining down from above.
The sword in Shroud's hand flared brighter as he gripped it tightly. He lunged forward, slashing at the bear's side. The blade connected, leaving a glowing scar across the creature's icy hide.
The bear roared in pain, swiping at him with claws the size of daggers. Shroud tried to dodge, but the cramped space worked against him. The claws raked across his arm, tearing through his makeshift cloak and drawing blood.
Pain erupted in his body, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. He lashed out again, his sword striking the bear's leg. The creature stumbled, its massive frame crashing against the cavern wall.
Shroud pressed the advantage, driving his blade toward the bear's neck. But the beast was faster than he anticipated. It twisted, its jaws snapping shut inches from his face.
He stumbled backward, his foot catching on a loose stone. He hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. The bear loomed over him, its glowing eyes filled with rage.
Desperation surged through Shroud. He focused all his energy into the sword, willing it to grow stronger. The blade pulsed with spectral energy, its glow intensifying.
As the bear lunged, Shroud thrust the sword upward with all his might. The blade pierced the creature's chest, the spectral energy exploding outward in a burst of light.
The bear let out a final, ear-splitting roar before collapsing, its massive body falling limp.
Shroud lay beneath it, pinned by its weight. He struggled to free himself, his arms trembling from the effort. After what felt like an eternity, he managed to crawl out from under the corpse, gasping for air.
His wounds throbbed, his vision swimming. The cold bit at him once more, but he didn't care. He had survived.
Barely.
As he stared at the fallen beast, exhaustion threatened to claim him. But he knew he couldn't rest. Not here. Not yet.
He pulled himself to his feet, using the sword as a crutch. The spectral blade flickered weakly before dissolving, leaving him empty-handed once more.
Shroud looked out into the storm, his resolve hardening. This trial wasn't just a test of strength. It was a crucible, one that would either forge him into something stronger—or destroy him entirely.
"I'll keep moving," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "No matter what."
And with that, he stumbled back into the blizzard, the storm swallowing him whole.
End of Chapter