The new prey screamed as the Pale Hunter dragged it across the icy wilderness and back into its cave to be processed and hung with the other one. It wasn’t bleeding. The Pale Hunter had been careful not to break open or cut its skin to minimize the interest of other predators with a taste for human meat. Thankfully, most of the other carnivores in the wilderness did not actively search for the flesh of humans; no, most creatures and beasts were content with hunting each other. They were unlike the Pale Hunter itself, who could only feed on the flesh and blood of men.

No other creature would suffice.

Once, the Pale Hunter thought to gorge itself on the meat of deer and wild boar, but quickly found that it simply couldn’t eat. The skin and fur from atop their muscles and the flesh from their bones would all turn to ash and dirt in the Pale Hunter’s maw and carried with it such a harsh and powerful bitterness as to force the hunter to spit everything out. Beasts and animals were not food, it’d learned quickly enough when it was still young; only the flesh of humans were edible.

The Pale Hunter reached its cave soon enough. The prey had gone silent by then – still alive and breathing, but unconscious. The other prey within, the pregnant female that’d soiled itself earlier, was awake and immediately began screaming when the Pale Hunter crawled in, lugging the short and stout human’s still-bleeding form behind it.

She roared and shouted and flailed her arms as she did before.

The Pale Hunter ignored the female human. The noises she made were not particularly troubling. So, the Hunter left her be – for now. The female would, of course, be its first meal with the cold of hunger came. But that wouldn’t be so for a while. Its last feast had been abundant, after all – four humans, three dead and one at the doorstep of death.

The Hunter crawled to the center of the cave.

Something was different about the place… somehow.

The Pale Hunter breathed in all the scents and smells and found nothing amiss; no other creature had been here save for itself.

So, why did it feel such a sudden and intrusive sense of strangeness about?

And then the Pale Hunter stopped, dropping its latest prey onto the floor as it felt something abruptly blooming within itself, a rapid explosion of tingling warmth that came from its head and spread further. In its eyes, blacker than the blackest black of the void, came a spark of recognition, a spark of memories long forgotten, a spark of fire, a spark of life… a spark of intelligence, and a spark of power.

Its body suddenly felt weak and heavy. But it was a different sort of weakness, not like the one brought by hunger and thirst.

The Pale Hunter fell to its knees.

Why did it feel so weak?

Its mind was a haze, its consciousness lost in a stream of thoughts, of knowledge it shouldn’t possess, and of memories that didn’t belong to it. The Pale Hunter groaned and lashed out with its claws at phantom images of… humans.

And then, the Pale Hunter fell on its face and all was darkness….

The wind blew in from outside the cave, ruffling and rustling the dried leaves and twigs that lied within. Ancient bones lay prone amidst the growing cold, a human skull peeking out of the darkness, surrounded by old, rusted, and decayed things that, long ago, were once armor parts and weapons. Among the piles of dirt, covered in cold grime and withered by time, were several sheets of paper, the words upon it etched in old and brown blood….

I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how long I’ll last here. If you’re reading this, then I’m probably dead. The… food has run out and I have long since been bereft of water. It is cold. I am probably going to die. It is inevitable. Death draws near.

And yet, I still live. And… with the last of my breath and the last of my strength, I shall write my deepest regret and my last apology.

My name is Orys Daegor. I am an adventurer – or was. I joined a party to venture deeper into the unknown that anyone ever has, a contract that spoke of hidden treasures beneath the Titan’s Spine Peaks. It was a dangerous and, in hindsight, foolish venture. But, I dragged my younger brother into it, regardless. It was his first contract. Aside from a few outliers and freaks of nature, the monsters in the cold wasteland were mostly weak. And there were twenty of us in the party, anyway.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

My little brother would’ve been safe, I thought.

I was wrong.

We trekked across hundreds of miles of snow and tall trees. We lost two of our number in the first day, a couple of young and foolish Bronze-Plates who thought Polar Bears were harmless. They were mauled to death and eaten alive. We killed the beasts responsible, but it was too late. Our leader, Markus of Helhaven, a Gold-Plater, told us we should continue. Their corpses were left behind – not even buried.

We should’ve turned back.

In our haste and greed, we overlooked the signs and clues that would’ve saved us from our doom.

We lost four good people in the second day. These were veteran, Steel-Platers, who should not have perished lightly. We never found out what killed them. They died while on patrol duty, their bodies crunched and broken when we found them on the pale snow.

It was supposed to be a safe and simple mission.

Six people died in two days.

Markus decided to push on, regardless. The promise of ancient treasures and powerful magical artifacts also spurned us all on. My little brother expressed his doubts, but I told him everything would be fine. I was, after all, a Silver-Plate and the remaining fourteen were all veterans of many adventures, mostly fellow Silver-Platers and a few Steel-Platers.

We lost none in the third and fourth days, though we were relentlessly hounded and attacked by packs of Frost Wolves. We weren’t worried about them. Deep in the wilderness, magically-mutated canids were the least of our worries.

No, Markus, our esteemed leader, was worried about the ever looming threat of the Dogmen tribes, who called the forest their home. I’d never fought a Dogman before, but I have heard stories of their savagery and their strength, claws and teeth strong enough to puncture and rip apart mithril.

We reached the base of the Titan’s Spine Peaks on the fifth day and established a base camp atop a small hill that overlooked much of the surrounding woods. For all its dangerous, the White Hell was certainly beautiful.

We ventured into the mountains and found the treasure, hidden amidst ancient caves, mounds and mounds of gold and silver, armories of ancient and powerful relics; it was everything we thought it would be and more.

We divided the treasure amongst ourselves, but saved a jewel-encrusted crown for the client. Our inventories were full and life was good. We stayed in our base camp until the seventh day.

The Dogmen descended upon us early in the morning. Our scouts and patrols were killed first. There was no warning. All was chaos. There was death everywhere. I grabbed my brother and ran into the mountains. A few of the Dogmen chased after us.

I… don’t know how long we ran and how many monsters we killed. At some point, I ran out of Health and Stamina Potions. Exhaustion quickly came. My brother and I found this cave and hid in it. The Dogmen didn’t chase us here. We were both wounded and weary. The cold did not help. The food I had in my Inventory wasn’t going to last for long. My brother’s leg was broken and covered in cuts. I did what I could with what little Healing Magic I knew, but it wasn’t enough to stave off infection and disease.

He died some six weeks ago.

I ran out of food three weeks ago.

I couldn’t venture out to hunt… the Dogmen were there… just waiting to kill me.

I would die, either way.

In hindsight, this quest was doomed to fail from the start. We were underprepared. We did not respect the dangers of the White Hell. And we paid the price for it.

If you’re reading this, then I’m probably dead. My greatest regret was that I brought my little brother with me… forgive me… brother… mother… father… I was supposed to protect him. He deserved a better life. I never should’ve pushed him to join us in our quest.

I am cursed….

Forgive me for committing a sin most foul….

Forgive me…

May my brother find himself in Asha’s loving embrace… for my sin, I am sure to be welcomed by Malkath.

Forgive me… brother.

Name: N/A

Race: Cursed Undead, Wendigo, Level 1

Classes: Necromancer (level 1), Assassin (level 1)

Experience: 0/100

Endurance – 0

Strength – 0

Dexterity – 0

Willpower – 0

Spirit – 0

0 Points Left to Spend

Racial Abilities:

- Voice Mimicry (level 1)

Necromancer Abilities:

- Raise Zombie (level 1)

Assassin Abilities:

- Celerity (level 1)

Perks:

- Natural Camouflage

- Cursed Spirit

- Abomination

- Cannibal

- Inheritor

The Pale Hunter’s black and hollow eyes snapped open.

It gazed at its prey, one squirming and screaming as it hung from the ceiling. The other was unconscious on the floor. Both reeked of fear.

The Hunter was hungry. It needed to feast.