He opened his eyes. He already understood the situation. And it seemed that the red foe did as well.

The other one was prey but this one, this one was special.

It walked out of the obscuring mist it created with the loud noise. He could tell it was powerful. Perhaps not in strength, but it bore the confidence that only the mighty flaunt. There was no fear. No matter the species, opponents such as this were always dangerous, he could feel it to his very marrow.

The closed mouth turned into a wicked snarl, not born of malice, but of razor dentition. An acception of a challenge. The others of its pack wouldn’t dare to not heed his word, as it was law, and they were born in oath. It would be that way till either one of them died.

He raised his neck, tilting his head sideways to appraise her once more with his left eye. It leveled out at their height. A female, he was sure, with a chitin of cave wall, though perhaps of greater quality. The hands did not have the mass to wound him, so it was likely the claws that it carried that it would fight with. He would be especially wary of the missiles it fired that killed his servants.

With a slow nod, the others of his breeding group backed away. He was aware that some creatures used a force within their bodies to do normally impossible things, and as such he would taunt such things out of them, learn them. His ears, still ringing from the strange object’s sudden eruption, tracked every aspect of the enemy. Weight, height, volume, perception, shifting, even the smallest aspects became known unto his observation.

The blades of his shoulders rolled as the muscles took tension once more, his body rising to a little over twice the height of the challenger. How long had it been since he had last fought? That the blood of the hunter within him last boiled? His nostrils spurt outward with a massive wind, what was equivalent to a chuckle. His power had long since plateaued at the peak, the kill had long since stopped providing strength, and the chance to fight another alpha would perhaps not come.

It might be the breakthrough needed, to rise higher than his current self.

His neck fully extended, his snout raised at an upward slant. There were no words exchanged, but he knew they both understood. A declaration of power, pride, and combat. A declaration of a name, to put his full into the battle.

A declaration of will, one that was stronger than any words could form.

I AM MOUNTAINRIDGE OF THE RED SNOW, ELDER SPIRIT OF MY KIND! His lips peeled back into the very countenance of menace, the air of an overwhelming force, a ruler.

YOUR BLOOD SHALL FUEL MY REIGN!

...

The tail surged forward with otherworldly speed, a mace of unstoppable proportions. With acrobatics unfit for the heavy mass, her back lurched backwards as she pushed off her feet, both hurtling over the path of the tail and the claws that slammed prior. The tail in turn attempted to wrap around her, which only left it a deep ravine in the skin.

He didn’t even flinch.

His right paw lunged towards the landing warrior, who used their chitin to slide it across. With a swift turn of direction, he applied a hard redirection along his arm.

She launched through the air, ending in a roll that turned into a stand.

He gloated with his eyes. He knew it.

She was trying to hide previous injury.

Her torso was not applying as much pressure as it should, and muscles were not supposed to sound like that when they dug into something. Her blows were always glancing rather than deep, and her flesh seemed more tender there, as shown by the blow she just received. Likely some of her ribs were broken. More than that, he was surprised at how she was even alive in that condition.

His flesh had been pierced, a certainly impressive feat. However, it was merely a flesh wound. It whipped against the ground, debris flying everywhere. He wanted to state how futile her attack was, versus how much he gained. Unfortunate it was that he could not see its face. No matter, he did not believe it would move her much.

He squinted his eyes. No.

They had gained something from that exchange, something he doesn’t know. He refused to believe that his opponent was that weak. It would take a master warrior to do what she had done, but he wouldn’t lower his view of her to that point. He wasn’t of his foolish younger kin.

The plated creature started slowly coming forward, his coat puffing up in response. What were the areas she came into contact with? His paw, his tail, and his sides a few times. His paw was fine, and even if he lost his tail it wouldn’t matter too much.

She came within striking distance, Not yet.

He extended his face straight up, his lungs swelling from a massive intake of oxygen. He traced her movements with his eyes, expecting her to go for a throat shot rather than the sever of his leg tendons. A cheshire grin arose from him. It didn’t matter what she did, he was not aiming for reinforcements or making her ears explode, if she had any.

With a sudden jerk of his ribcage, the air itself exploded.

The sonic boom carried no ricochet, but a meteoric burst of destruction that shook the very concretion of his territory. The pillars cried and the roof humbled itself to his presence. Its maw opened to his command, and released the very earth asunder.

His gaze was colder than the snow, and his skin harder than the mountain he so proudly took after.

…

Tomoe could handle shrapnel, even in her current condition.

But the stones the size of her torso that broke off, it was a bit more difficult.

She could dodge just fine but the tremors from the avalanche made even footing almost impossible, alongside the sloshing she heard from her burst ears. Deaf, dizzy, and in the face of death was a startlingly unsettling combination.

She flicked her wrist, ejecting the blood from her katana. His fur had extended, making a better cushion for her blows versus his already rock-hard skin. Her blade would blunt rapidly at this point, only managing to partly cut apart the hamstring.

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She backed off from another boulder, the force making her skid across the floor. As rubble fell it created an annoying domino effect. Without the ability to approach, she would have to hunker down.

She raised her right arm as a furry flail smashed into her right. Sparks flew as it grated against her armor, deftly sliding it into the ground. Backstepping three times, she barely dodged the rebound, and with a twist she skirted around the jaws, freshly positioned at where she previously was.

Tumbling down as wreckage skimmed her spaulders, her legs shoved off the floor. Her hand reached out; it grappled the rough surface. Using the momentum of the chaos, her entire body spurred into motion, flipping backward and teeth grit from pain. The attempts to stop her were futile, her aerial maneuvering allowing contortions that bypassed harm. Once feet met land once more they kicked up dust as she sprinted towards the beast.

She jumped over a sweep from the likely male canine, made by his flexible appendage. Not stopping for a moment, she performed a hard slide under the kick of a hind leg as the wolf attempted to turn around. Watatsumi became a nail in her hand, diving into a scrape she had made before. Earlier than he could give a good rebuttal, she continued the slice along the belly-side. Her mad sprint continued even though she couldn’t stand straight up under the creature.

Her continuous stroke was halted by something she hadn’t expected.

The beast let his legs give out, performing a total body slam.

Most living things, even of intellect, would never fall on a blade, especially in a move as painful as that one. He possibly squashed his own organs that were spilling out as well, and she assumed he did so in the full knowledge that it would happen.

Tossing her entire weight to the side, a sickening crunch invaded her being. Yanking with her center of mass, it escaped from its fleshy prison. Her left shoulder was crushed into paste, the smashed armor sandwiching it. Tomoe shoved off with her right, careening out of the massive creature’s rolling over.

Yet she still drove a stake into the ground, pulled from a small side pouch.

She was fended off from creating an onslaught with a gush of blood. She grounded her position, but could not advance as it was on her eyelids. Jerking her head, any wet drip was tossed to the side of her helmet. Any remaining getting into her eye she would just have to deal with.

Her nerves registered a horrible agony and pressure. Tomoe was dragged along by the wolf's mouth as they rolled over again. The vice grip between six fangs only intensified, one on the bottom stabbing through. It had dislocated its own neck to reach her.

“GRAGH!”

With a harsh guttural tone she slammed her foot down on a tooth, the red strands connecting it to the gums ripping apart. With a final, second blow it tore off, her own muscles ripped.

Grabbing hold as her armor warped into a hideous shade of its former glory, the tooth she removed had bulleted towards the uvula. She was dropped with a thud, her opponent focused on their gag reflex and choking.

Wasting no time, even with one arm she pounded in three more stakes.

Her grim face somehow took on a darker shade. She was ready.

A murderous noise came from behind, and she turned around to see the wolf stalking her, hair matted with blood just as her own.

Sheathing her blade after shedding its blood, she grabbed Orochi, taking an overhead throwing stance.

The bait worked, he ran in to stop her.

Reaching out, she cut a string. A string almost invisible, made of hard metal, littered with small bits of tungsten.

Twang

It split in half.

The pressure it applied to the other strings attached to the stakes ended. They rushed forward, the tension now removed as she crafted her own domino effect.

Not even a second, not even enough for Tomoe to react fully. Serrated strands of morbid potential diced the skin, resistance futile to the one caught in the trap. All soft parts broke, all hard parts in tatters. The floundering only burrowed it deeply, the snapping only sticking it into the wound for good. It was a situation you couldn’t win in.

And yet, Tomoe knew he would live.

Her only functional grip on her katana, Orochi returned to rest, she breathed in.

Inhale.

…

Exhale.

She spit. The globs of blood and bile smothered the lower part of her helmet. Blood ran into her eyes, the sclera dyed crimson. Her mind took no note, it only faded into darkness.

A vision, one of a tree. The blossoms set on the leaves.

An earsplitting roar, almost inaudible due to her deafness. The vibrations rattled the loose pieces of her metal shell.

Her feet spread apart, the diaphragm heaving in turmoil as she bent over.

A mighty wind blew the blossoms, scattering them about yet never harming them. It couldn’t. The blossoms rode the wind after all.

A last snap, The brute raced towards her, eyes bloodshot and carnage only in its mind.

Her mouth moved.

“A single wind flow”

The wolf was now soon upon her, but it didn’t matter.

A card she would need to use after all.

“The blossoms scatter along

The old wind’s own breath.”

The feral drool was splashed around. He would trample her in a mere moment.

And yet he didn’t have a moment.

“First draw: Blossom.”

The wolf froze, and Tomoe stood up straight. Slowly, she walked past him, determined to look around his lair for anything else.

May you find rest,

She reached out her hand, feeling the drops of rain.

Tomoe couldn’t help but sigh. She didn’t need her armor ruined more than it already was. Just because it was red didn’t mean it could be a proper replacement for paint.

…

He opened his eyes, and saw nothing. It seemed they were ruined. His nose as well, or so caked with his insides they could not function. His ears held no strength, and the power his body once had was diminished.

The blade. It sung.

Her arm moved at such a speed that the air fought against her. His face was carved to the fullest extent.

He could only imagine the pain she was in, her flesh ripping apart from her own attack, He exhaled a disgusting gunk from his nose, a failure of a chuckle.

He had lived for so long.

Years upon years. From his own life as a little one to who he is now, and the dangers that followed. His age far surpassed the others. He had fought well, he assumed. The person had paused movement as she neared the back of him, likely showing some gesture of respect.

His teeth bit into each other with shattering force.

He had come so far, only to die. Only to never become more than the limit. How long had it been, how long had it been? Was this how it ended?

His fangs started cracking.

He would not go down like this! He would cave in his entire home, to maintain his superiority, and to avenge the slain.

His lungs filled with oxygen, their limits to bursting. The shot he fired would end everything. Nothing inside would live, all would perish from the mountain! He would-

He deflated his lungs.

He would do nothing,

He lost. He could not bring himself to do such a thing. Perhaps because of the wonderful battle, but it felt like it was something else. Something he didn’t know. He didn’t know why he didn’t do it, why he couldn’t bring himself to action, and yet, it was.

His time had passed. There was no longer a need.

His lips peeled back.

In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to kill the cursed child. Not his son.

He could only inflict pain.

A dutiful mother he has.

His neck strained, the ache of dislocation still there. Still, he rose. With one last release, his vocal cords reverberated.

His own song was now added to the mountain. A home, a wonder, and his grave.

And so, Mountainridge of the Red Snow’s heart ceased to beat.