The fury in my veins scalds my insides, screaming to burn away this cursed ice and snow—this unworthy battleground! I scramble from the center of the enclosure, dashing and sliding across the treacherous terrain like a stone skipping on water.
Snow and shards of ice rain down inches from where I stand, as if the heavens themselves conspire to bury me. My skating momentum sends me crashing into the frozen wall, pulling a grunt from my frosty lips as cracks web through the permafrost.
But there’s no time for pain. The sneachir will reemerge, thirsting for the fiery blood coursing through my veins. I shove off the wall with all my might, leaping onto a pile of snow for steadier footing.
The monster’s muscular body flows silently beneath the surface like a leviathan of icy horror made flesh. I brace myself, seeing its circles tighten, drawing close, ready to pounce.
Now!
Its massive jaws burst from the ground like a plasma cannon blast, sending a shower of ice and snow flying. But I hardly notice—my fury burns only for the monster that dares hunt me.
I leap through the air, positioning myself behind its enormous head, letting the weight of my fall and Rush-fueled muscles drivemy claws through its mane, grinding between thick scale and biting deep.
Yes!I growl, savoring the inky white blood gushing over my hands.
The sneachir roars in fury, thrashing wildly beneath me, but I hold fast, my grip hard as arcweave.
With savage force, I rip at its scales, my brute strength tearing through its icy hide. I feel the chill of its life force against my face as the white blood evaporates on my heated skin. The Rush surges stronger than ever as I carve my way toward the frozen core of the beast, determined to tear its flesh asunder.
A loud crack snaps my attention away, just in time to see the sneachir’s maned, fin-like tail lash out from another fissure in the ice. It strikes like a titanic whip, smashing into my crossed arms. The impact rips the frigid air from my lungs and sends me crashing into the crystalline walls like a spent bullet.
Agony explodes through my body, but my fury burns it away. Pain is meaningless now. I brace, already expecting its next strike. The creature’s tail sweeps through the ice-choked enclosure like a monstrous scythe.
I wait for it to come within reach, claws ready. As it sweeps toward me, I dig my claws deep into its flesh, letting its own savage strength drive it forward.
My claws screech as they rake against the hard, interlocking scales, struggling to find purchase. The immense force of the beast travels through my arm, rattling my bones, but I grit my teeth and hold fast.
Finally, my claws sink deep, and I feel the icy blood running like streams down my arm. But the sneachir doesn’t relent. It coils its titanic tail around me, encasing me in a living vise of death.
My armor creaks under the immense crushing pressure, the plates straining against my bulging muscles, squeezing tighter,tighter still. Air becomes sparse, my chest constricted, the frozen world pressing in.
The ice cracks as the beast pulls me slowly toward its gaping maw, rows of jagged fangs glistening with frozen hunger. It thinks I am defeated—nothing but a troublesome morsel to be consumed. But I am its death.
The Rush spills from my eyes as I roar in defiance, lashing out like I’m possessed by Arawnoth himself. I roar, defying death itself. My claws are a blinding blur of rage, a whirlwind of searing energy.
Manic laughter escapes my burning lungs as I hammer at the same spot, again and again. The scales give way as I smash them to pieces, pulling the broken remnant away, tearing into the white flesh beneath with my claws.
The sneachir’s roar shakes the walls, a sound of agony and rage, but it cannot shake me loose. I tear into the wound with savage abandon, relishing the torrent of icy blood that coats every inch of me.
I am Arawnoth’s chosen. The one who ignites entropy. There is no ice, no flesh, that can resist my molten fury. Sinew and muscle split apart under my claws, their grotesque layers driving me further, deeper into its body, sawing, hacking, ripping. It’s all the same—all glorious.
I thud to the ground, still wrapped in the beast’s severed tail—a serrated, grotesque mess of milky white gore and blue-tinted meat.
The sneachir tosses frantically, spraying the crystalline surfaces with its blood, its agonized roars filling the icy cavern. I rise slowly, claws drenched in blood and shredded flesh, a smirk curling my lips as I meet its crazed gaze. My eyes burn with Rush, the wisps of crimson steam rising.
This is the fate that awaits all who dare challenge me—unrelenting suffering and death.
Suddenly, the gnawing concern from my bonded female lances through my mind like a searing laser. It freezes my heart mid-beat, paralyzing my steps with its rank wrongness. Her fear, once a distant echo, has now morphed into outright terror. Foreign and weak, it does not belong. My mind reels against it, seeking to expunge the invading emotion. That familiar creeping cold returns, numbing my fingers and crawling toward my chest, threatening to smother the fire that fuels me.
I hate it. Every part of it is everything I am not.
My very soul rebels against it. My bonded female delivers it, but I do not allow it. I feel a part of me reaching out to her, blazing through a void, driving back the darkness that clings to her, igniting her frightened spirit.
I sense her light—a flickering silver flame, distant but there. It’s close to mine but should be closer. In my revulsion, I surge the gap, forcing my will into hers. Our fires mingle in a blazing torrent of blistering red, tipped with mercury.
I don’t fully understand what I’ve done—only that something has changed. There’s a new heat, more intense than anything I’ve ever felt before, burning from within.
My eyes snap open, vision almost consumed by the billowing plumes of my crimson and silver Rush pouring forth. The sneachir writhes, seeking to retreat, knowing its doom approaches.
