The blizzard didn't fall.
It attacked.
Each flake tore a piece of silence. Each gust wounded the skin like a rebuke. A white howl. An ancient scream. A memory from the time when gods still bled and monsters crawled beneath their shattered throne.
The world was nothing but a chasm of cold ash.
And in that chasm: two shadows.
One, thin, dressed in a torn kimono, eyes covered with a bloodstained cloth, trembled involuntarily. The other, massive, quadrupedal, silver like a flayed moon, stood still, its muscles ready to burst from tension. Rex. The dog turned sentinel. The companion turned knight. The beast turned steed.
"It's… it's coming..." Rays whispered.
His voice wasn't speech. It was breath — the last ember of a dying flame.
He saw nothing.
Not because he was blind — he had worn that curse since childhood.
No.
Because even his echolocation had drowned beneath the storm. The snow screamed louder than his heart. Louder than the earth itself.
— You're still breathing, the Voice reminded him.
It was there. Always. Like a fever in the skull, like breath in the bones. The Voice. The one that guided him. The one that judged him.
— As long as you breathe, you can choose.
"Choose what? To die with flair? To scream like some useless hero?"
A nervous laugh cracked his frostbitten lips.
— Choose not to give them your end.
Something opened before him in the blizzard.
Not a silhouette.
An intention.
A cold deeper than the rest. An absence of warmth, of sound, of logic. Horror had taken shape in that void.
An abomination, birthed from a nightmare devoured by time.
It crawled slowly, each limb made of shredded shadow, ribs open like dead wings. A skeleton twisted by hatred. With each step, the snow cracked like coffins breaking underground.
And behind it… others.
Four. Seven. Eleven. Dozens. A pack of things that were no longer human — if they ever had been.
The wind carried their scent. A stench of frost, bile, and frozen blood.
Rays wanted to speak. But his breath vanished into the wind.
He dropped to his knees. His hands trembled. Not from fear. Not only.
From exhaustion.
From fury.
From everything that had led him here.
"I'm finished."
— You're still alive.
He clenched his teeth. His jaw creaked.
And Rex growled.
A low, slow growl, like an ancient drum. Then… a light.
The dog arched, its fur bristled, bones cracked.
And with a beastly groan… he transformed.
A colossal horse, with a mane of silver, rose in the wind. His hooves shattered the ice. His eyes burned with silent rage. A noble beast. A beast born for the end of the world.
"Guide me, Rex…"
He climbed onto his back.
And suddenly… everything opened.
The wind spoke. The earth sang. Vibrations danced in the air like black fireflies. His power adapted. The storm became an ally. Every crack, every monstrous breath painted a map in his mind.
An invisible battlefield.
— Your senses are heightened. And your element is earth. Shape it. Breathe. Strike.
He drew his katana.
An ivory blade, thin, almost translucent. The edge of a truth no one wants to hear.
The first abomination leaped.
And the world shattered.
Rays slashed the air. The blade screamed. And the head fell — silently. Black blood burst out, burning the snow like living acid.
Another charged. Rex reared. A hoof struck. The creature's ribs exploded in shards of ice.
But a claw tore into Rays' thigh.
A sharp pain. Fire in his leg. He screamed. Countered. Carved a red arc into the blizzard.
And the others came.
Again. And again.
An endless nightmare.
The battle became a trance. A barbaric dance. The ground trembled beneath their hooves. Rays raised his hands. Shaped the earth. A spike shot out. A creature was impaled, screaming with no mouth. Another slithered behind him. He turned — too late. A claw pierced his shoulder. He screamed. Struck. Slashed. Staggered back.
Blood flowed. His. Rex's. The monsters'.
The snow turned red in patches, then sheets, then torrents.
Rays staggered. His kimono was torn and soaked. His breath ragged. His leg hung limp. His right hand trembled too much to hold the sword.
— Use the storm, whispered the Voice. Let them think you're fleeing.
"You want me to hide?!"
— No. I want you to kill them when they already think you're dead.
He lowered his head.
Let the blade fall.
Let his blood stain the snow.
He whispered to Rex.
The horse stepped back. Slowly. Limping.
The abominations drew closer. Slowly. Ravenous. Some crawled. Others floated. Their bones clattered like teeth.
Then… silence.
And Rays stood.
A scream.
Not human.
A scream of ancient pain, of dry rage, of shame passed down through blood.
He leapt.
Snatched the katana mid-air.
And struck.
Each blow severed a heart of ice.
Each step carved a grave.
Rex kicked, stomped, shattered.
They were two. But they were a storm.
And when, at last… the final creature let out a scream so sharp the ice cracked…
Rays struck.
One last rasp.
One last breath.
And everything fell quiet.
The snow.
The silence.
The pain.
Rays collapsed to the ground.
Rex crumpled beside him.
The katana rolled into the red snow. His hand had no strength left. His stomach bled constantly, like a slow fountain. His chest was torn open, his arm broken, his lips split.
But he smiled.
Maybe.
He no longer knew.
He could hear his heart beat. Then slow. Then fade.
Around him, the snow was no longer white.
It was red.
Red like a scream.
Red like an end.
Rex breathed softly. A sound like a dying forge.
And the Voice, for the first time… remained silent.
The sky had emptied.
They had won.
But no one was there to see it.