The cold wind swept from the north, carrying with it a biting chill that stung the skin and whispered through the trees like a warning. Everything was buried beneath snow - white, silent, endless.
This was the northern province, a once-forgotten stretch of wilderness now turned into a critical outpost by the Hunter Academy. And right now, it was drawing attention for all the wrong reasons.
Charlie stood at the edge of a cliff, eyes fixed on the white-crusted mountain range ahead. Behind him lay the ghost town - what remained of a once-busy village now swallowed by silence and memory. When the monsters came, the people left. Some fled. Others never got the chance.
He narrowed his eyes, watching for movement in the icy fog below. Then, without a word, he turned and walked back toward his party.
A group of more than twenty waited behind him, their armor glinting faintly in the snowlight. Among them, one stepped forward—a young woman clad in matching white armor, her ponytail fluttering in the wind.
Sharley.
She approached with a practiced calm, falling into step beside him.
"Brother, how's the situation?"
"Hard to say," Charlie muttered. "From this distance, they look like low-level monsters. The kind even trainees could handle. The stationed hunters here should've wiped them out easily."
He pulled a communication device from his coat pocket and activated it. The static cleared, and a gruff voice broke through:
"What's the status?"
"Sir, everything looks fine from our end. Low-class threats. But something doesn't feel right. Could be something else." Charlie added.
The voice drifted through the air and commended something.
"Understood. We'll move in the next hour," Charlie replied, before tucking the device away.
The cold wind howled again, brushing flakes of snow off his armor. He exhaled slowly, his breath curling into mist.
Charlie wasn't just the team leader. He was the strategist, the one who planned every move, every formation, every retreat.
And this wasn't adding up. The monsters were too weak. The outpost was too quiet. And the silence - too perfect. This was no ordinary patrol. This was the calm before something bigger.
Crimson Bull, the elite hunter party under the Academy's banner, was about to step into the snowstorm.
And Charlie knew weak monsters weren't the only things that hid in the snow.
Snow crunched beneath heavy boots as Charlie marched forward with his team at his back. The cliffside was behind them now the battlefield stretched ahead, a wide valley leading to the base of the frozen mountain.
"Formation Alpha," he ordered calmly, and the group shifted in perfect rhythm.
From behind the barricades, the archers drew their bows and loosed a volley. Arrows sliced through the air with deadly precision, impaling several approaching monsters—hulking beasts with gray hides and tusks, no match for ranged precision.
Next came the ranged weapons division—gunners, artillery, and slingers—blasting gaps into the ranks of the advancing horde. Flashes of light and fire erupted through the fog of snowfall. Then, with a battle cry, the frontliners surged forward.
Swords clashed. Shields locked. Spears plunged.
The line of melee hunters crashed into the enemy like a steel tidal wave. Behind them, mages and enchanters began their chants. Buffs, barriers, and healing pulses shimmered in the air, coating their allies in glows of white, gold, and blue.
Charlie held back watching, analyzing. His hand hovered over his map, scanning troop formations, noting monster positions, and deploying traps into the snow. Trigger glyphs. Ice binders. Mana mines.
"They're getting more in numbers," someone said from behind.
"Not for long," Charlie muttered.
But then… he frowned. Something was wrong.
The monsters—creatures barely more intelligent than wolves—were advancing too cleanly. They were rotating positions. Flanking. Retreating only to strike again from higher ground. This was coordination. And that was impossible.
These things didn't think. They charged blindly, driven by instinct. But now… now they moved like a trained militia.
"This is no swarm. This is a formation," Charlie whispered.
He reached for his communicator, the urgency rising in his chest.
But before he could speak, the air itself seemed to shift.
A deep, primal roar shattered the sky. The snow quaked.
From behind the hills emerged a massive figure, its footsteps cracking the ice beneath. Covered in scale-like plates and ridged with bone, it resembled a dinosaur—but far more sinister. Its eyes gleamed a cold violet, glowing unnaturally beneath the heavy fog. Spikes jutted from its spine, and its jaws dripped with blackened steam.
But it wasn't the sheer size that froze Charlie mid-step. It was the look in its eyes.
Intelligence. Awareness. Control.
This thing wasn't just leading the monsters. It was commanding them.
And it was staring directly at him.
Charlie's fingers tightened around the communicator.
"This is Crimson Bull. We've made contact with a new class of entity. Massive. Intelligent. Potentially the source of coordinated behavior. Requesting immediate strategic protocol update—"
A roar cut through the message as the beast let out another earth-shaking cry. Behind it, the remaining monsters shrieked in unison and charged anew—this time with terrifying unity.
"Everyone! Regroup and hold formation! Focus fire on the big one! Healers—prioritize shields!"
Charlie drew his blade. He was no longer just a strategist. This fight… was about survival.
The clash of steel and flame echoed into the frozen skies—but nothing seemed to matter.
The kaiju didn't even flinch.
Every spell, every arrow, every enchanted strike—the colossal beast took them all like whispers in the wind. Its violet eyes shimmered with cold intellect, watching the Hunters flail like ants underfoot.
The smaller monsters, once manageable, began to multiply—spilling from cracks in the cliffs, crawling from the snowdrifts like a tide of death. Their cry became louder. Their strikes became smarter.
And soon… the formation shattered.
Blood sprayed across the snow like paint. Once-proud warriors lay broken and still, their bodies twisted in unnatural shapes. The pure white field had become a crimson gradient—a canvas of death.
Charlie had fought bravely. They all had. But bravery meant nothing now.
Once, he had stood at the front of every charge, shouted the words that drove hope into the hearts of his allies:
"Battle rest."
It meant we hold, we recover, we endure. Now, he ran. Through the woods, branches scraping across his armor, snow soaking his boots—he ran. Alone.
He could hear the chaos behind him. The screams. The silence that followed.
He didn't want to look back—not because he was a coward, but because he already knew what he would see.
He was supposed to protect them. His sister.
She was the reason he'd become a Hunter. After their parents died, he'd sworn to take care of her, even if that meant abandoning his dreams. But she'd gone ahead anyway. Brave. Stubborn. Brilliant. And now… she is gone. Both of them were among the top Experts the Academy produced. Even all the others were minimum specialist levels.
Charlie stopped. His legs trembled. His lungs burned. He turned around. And he walked back.
Each step felt heavier than the last. His body was intact—but something inside him had already broken.
His youthful face, once sharp and determined, now looked a hundred years older.The battlefield was still now. Too still.
Flesh, armor, and blood stained the snow in scattered heaps. Smoke rose from shattered spells. Shattered people. And there—at the edge of the chaos—lay Sharley.
She looked almost peaceful, her silver armor still gleaming under the blood-spattered snow. Her hand was outstretched… reaching for him. Charlie collapsed to his knees and pulled her into his arms.
She felt light—too light—like her soul had already drifted far from this place. His voice trembled. He whispered the only words he could.
"Battle rest… Battle rest… Battle rest…"
But there were no smiles this time. No comrades waiting for the next order. No one left to hear him. Just the wind. And the snow. And the footsteps behind him.
The kaiju stepped forward—towering, unchallenged, silent.
Charlie didn't move. He didn't scream. He didn't beg. He just held his sister.
The final blow came swift—a blur of shadow and force.
And then, silence.