CHAPTER 33

SNOW MONSTER

Mark’s horse trotted toward a small, snow-dusted village. Two days had passed since he crossed the border from Archon Hanying’s realm into Archon Vlad’s lands. The dirt road beneath him was frozen and hard, the morning sky a brooding gray, thick with clouds. The village lay tucked against the edge of a massive forest to the east. Thatched rooftops sagged under heavy snow, while thin plumes of smoke curled lazily from the chimneys.

As Mark rode into the village, the peasants stopped what they were doing to stare. Their hollow cheeks and threadbare clothes spoke of hard times. He understood their curiosity—this was the kind of place where a well-armed foreigner was a rare sight.

A stocky, middle-aged man in a fur coat shuffled toward him, his ruddy face standing out among the gaunt villagers. “Foreigner,” the man called. “I’m Pribislav, the mayor of this village. I see you’re armored and armed.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “I am. That a problem?”

“Not at all,” Pribislav said quickly. “Actually, I was wondering—are you by any chance a sword-for-hire?”

Mark nodded. “I am. But my services aren’t cheap.”

“Good,” Pribislav said with a sigh of relief. “We need help. There’s a monster in the forest that’s been killing our people. Hunting and woodcutting are the lifeblood of this village, but now no one dares go near the trees. A survivor once described the creature as massive, but he died from his wounds before giving us any details. All we know is it’s killed dozens and left us desperate.”

Mark’s face remained impassive. “Seventy gold coins.”

Pribislav’s jaw dropped. “We don’t have that kind of money!”

“Sixty, then. That’s as low as I’ll go.”

The mayor cursed under his breath but reluctantly nodded. “Fine.”

“Good. Now take me to your inn—or whatever passes for one here. I want food and drink before I go monster-hunting.”

Pribislav led Mark to a run-down building at the edge of the village. Dismounting his horse, Mark pushed through the creaky door into the dim interior. Inside, only two men sat quietly nursing drinks. The mustached bartender served him a steaming bowl of soup—beets, cabbage, carrots, onions, potatoes, and tomatoes—and a mug of frothy beer.

Mark drained the beer in a single gulp and dug into the soup. It was simple, earthy, and surprisingly good. When he finished, he stood, wiped his mouth, and strode outside. Mounting his horse, he gave a curt nod to Pribislav before galloping toward the dark, looming forest.

The hunt was on.

The forest was blanketed in snow, its towering trees and gray, overcast sky casting the place in an eerie gloom despite the early hour. As Mark rode cautiously through the frozen landscape, the first flakes of fresh snow began to fall, adding to the thick layer already covering the ground. The silence was broken only by the crunch of his horse’s hooves, but then he saw it—a sudden flash of white ahead.

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Mark’s eyes narrowed. He dismounted, unsheathing his sword, and moved forward cautiously. A low, menacing growl rumbled through the trees, setting his nerves on edge. Then, it appeared.

The creature stood over three meters tall, its massive frame covered in thick white fur. Sharp claws extended from its powerful hands, and jagged teeth jutted from its snarling jaws. But its eyes were the most chilling—fiery red, burning with rage. The beast threw back its head and howled, the sound echoing through the forest like a wolf’s war cry.

Mark gritted his teeth, raising his sword. “Time to die, you ugly bastard!”

The monster lunged, faster than its size suggested possible. Snow sprayed as it charged, its claws swiping for Mark’s head. He ducked just in time, the beast’s hand slamming into a tree behind him with enough force to shatter it into splinters. Still crouched, Mark drove his blade into the creature’s leg.

The monster’s fur was thick and tough, but Mark’s strike found its mark, piercing through to draw dark, viscous blood. The beast roared in pain and rage, lashing out with both claws. Mark yanked his sword free and leapt backward, avoiding the attack by a hair’s breadth.

Dark blood dripped from his blade as he prepared for the next assault. The creature came at him again, swiping with its left claw. Mark parried the strike, but the beast didn’t relent. It followed with a ferocious double-handed attack.

Mark dove to the left, narrowly avoiding the brunt of the blow, but not before the monster’s claws raked across his chest. The razor-sharp talons sliced through his chainmail like paper, leaving a burning gash that quickly began to bleed.

Mark stumbled back, his grip tightening on his sword. The beast growled, its fiery eyes locked on him, ready for more.

The beast barreled toward him, its massive form kicking up snow like a storm. Mark sidestepped but lost his footing, crashing to the ground. Before he could scramble up, the creature loomed over him, its jagged teeth inches from his face. He could feel the sickening warmth of its breath, foul enough to churn his stomach. As its jaws closed in, Mark thrust his sword upward with all his strength, driving the blade deep into the beast’s chest.

The creature let out a deafening scream, its pain giving Mark the precious second he needed. He yanked the sword free, blood spraying onto the snow, and rolled to the side just as the beast lunged again. Scrambling to his feet, Mark’s breath came in sharp, cold gasps.

The beast turned, dark blood soaking its pristine white fur, its fiery eyes blazing with fury. Mark didn’t wait. He leaped, landing squarely on its massive head, and drove his sword down with a ferocious yell. The blade plunged deep, piercing its brain.

The monster collapsed with a final, guttural roar, its body crashing to the snowy ground. Mark, still perched on its head, was thrown off, rolling through the snow as the beast lay still in a spreading pool of dark blood. He pushed himself up, panting, and let out a relieved sigh.

Without wasting time, he approached the carcass. Using his sword, he worked methodically, severing the beast’s head. Blood seeped into the snow as he lifted the grotesque trophy and carried it back to his horse. After securing it to the saddle, Mark mounted and rode back to the village.

Snow fell steadily as he entered, muffling the quiet streets. Only a few villagers braved the cold, and among them was Pribislav, standing near the square. Mark dismounted and tossed the beast’s head at the mayor’s feet.

“Fuck!” Pribislav shouted, jumping back. His eyes widened in shock and fear. “What a monster!”

“I didn’t kill it for fun,” Mark said, his tone cold. “I want my reward.”

The mayor nodded hastily, fumbling to hand Mark a pouch of coins. Mark tucked it away, mounted his horse, and rode to the village inn.

The rest of the day passed in comfort. He feasted on hearty dishes, drank his fill of beer, and enjoyed the warmth of the fire. That night, he sank into a small but cozy bed, pulling thick blankets over himself as he drifted into a deep sleep.

At dawn, Mark rose with the first light, saddled his horse, and left the village behind, ready to chase the next contract.