The clash erupted between the Howler and the Blizzard Beast. The volume of this battle left Zerin surprised; how could he have missed such a disturbance prior? Back when the pale abomination descended upon the Howler pack like storm, tearing them to shreds.

The veined horror hobbled forward. Each step sending tremors through the blankets of snow. The fanged beast struggled, its claws raking desperately across its opponent's form.

Enraged, the brute seized the Howler in its grip. With it's hands being swollen to grotesque proportions, the abomination dwarfed the Howler. Following its powerful grip was a wail from the fanged beast and the crushing of its shoulders under the overwhelming force of the Blizzard Beast.

The sound echoed gruesomely in Zerin's ears. He squinted at the inevitable outcome. It was no surprise that a creature capable of wiping out an entire Howler pack could easily take down a lone member. But, like anyone drawn to a good underdog story, Zerin found himself quietly rooting for the wolf—because the last thing he wanted was to face that veined creature himself.

The Howler's arms hung limply, but even then, it stood in defiance. The icy horror seemed only be angered further by the Howler. With a guttural groan, the reanimated corpse swiped its massive arm, putting all its weight behind the motion, sending the fanged beast crashing through a nearby pine. The impact was explosive; splinters of wood flew in every direction as the creature's body rolled, kicking up clouds of snow.

Zerin then held onto a sliver of hope—that the Howler would rise again. But as the swirling clouds of snow settled, his heart sank; the wolf lay there lifeless, unmoving.

Damn it. It's finished…

Zerin turned toward the abomination, bracing himself for what he knew was coming. It was about to brutalize the corpse of the fallen creature.

Rising from his kneeling position, Zerin felt his heart pounding audibly in his ears.

Stupid, Stupid, Stupid, Stupid!

As the abomination wobbled toward the lifeless body of the fallen wolf, Zerin succumbed to the urge to step forward, taking advantage of the creature's turned back.

Screw it!

Zerin broke into a sprint, unsheathing his sword. Attacking this brute's body had proven to be a futile attempt, so his plan was to go for the neck. No matter how big or small a creature was, they all bled the same.

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He huffed as he dashed through the snow. The hefty creature lumbered past the shattered tree stump, drawing closer to the wolf. In a bold move, Zerin leapt of the stump, descending onto the abomination's back from above.

His blade shimmered with an astral glow as he raised it above his head, the starry hue illuminating everything around him. He steeled himself, channeling every ounce of his weight and strength into the impending strike.

The blade plunged into the brute's thick, mottled neck. It sank deep into its dense flesh with satisfying resistance. Blood trickled wound, oozing out an azure color as the blade tore through layers of flesh and sinew.

The Blizzard Beast groaned, its bellowing voice reverberating through the air causing the trees to tremble. It stumbled as it began to shake its attacker from its back. Zerin clung tightly to his blade, feeling it twist and churn deeper into the brute's wound.

As the blade twisted and churned deeper into the wound, an icy, pressurized stream of azure blood erupted forth, spraying all directions. The vile torrent splattered across Zerin, some of the foul liquid spilling into his mouth, forcing him to inadvertently swallow a considerable portion.

He gagged and coughed, the rancid, acidic taste instantly coating his tongue. Just then, the world momentarily began to blur. He felt an exhilarating rush of [Sanguine Surge]—his aspect ability—activate for the first time, burning through him like wildfire.

The high was indescribable—a feeling he had never experienced before. He didn't just feel stronger; he was stronger. His focus was sharper, and a surge of power coursed through him. He felt truly inhuman.

Zerin hoisted himself up quickly onto the shoulders of the Blizzard Beast. Pulling out his blade from its fatty flesh didn't even feel like a chore, rather it felt exciting. He found his heart racing with an intense desire to kill.

Upon the Brutes shoulders he lodged his blade into its fatty neck with ease. Zerin grasped his sword tighter. He began to carve a graver wound around the brute's neck, bathing in the pressurized streams that were birthed from its neck. This time the resistance of its flesh was nothing to him as he attempted to completely sever the head off this hefty creature.

Splattered in the grotesque rain, it felt euphoric, he almost didn't want it to end. He found himself smiling as he continued to bask in the agony that was coming from this creature.

But Zerin's carelessness swiftly turned into a weakness. Finally, the abomination managed to react despite the pain it was experiencing. It grasped Zerin's ankle and crushed it in its grip with a loud crack. Before he could even process the searing pain in his ankle, the abomination hurled him off its back, sending him tumbling through the air like a ragdoll.

He crashed into the ground with a series of rolling thuds, soft blankets of snow kicked up around him. As the strength from his aspect ability began to fade, he soon felt the full brunt of the pain he had just endured and the chilling cold of cobalt blood that stained him.

A deep, guttural roar of rage erupted from the Blizzard Beast. It was the only motivation that urged him to try to stand. He was dazed and disoriented, but he stood up anyways.

Pushing himself off the snow, his body felt like it was made of bricks. He stabbed his sword into the earth beneath him to steady himself. He lifted his head at the sound of rain pattering against the snow. Streams of the abomination's cobalt blood stained the landscape, spreading across the pure white snow and darkening the surrounding trees.

The brute trudged forward, its nearly severed head danged unnaturally from its massive body, yet it continued to move with a mindless determination. Blood poured from its wound with relentless pressure, as if it would never cease. Each heavy step thudded against the ground, sending tremors rippling through the snow.

This bastard shouldn't be able to endure that wound and still be moving!

Zerin shifted his weight, and a sudden jolt of pain shot through his injured ankle. He winced, the sharp sensation forcing him to lean more heavily on his sword, which was firmly planted in the earth.

I had it! I almost had it!

The thought raged through his mind. The creature's body wasn't immune—it could feel and suffer from injuries inflicted on it. So how the hell was it still standing?

Then Zerin saw it: something began to sprout from the massive gash in the creature's neck. Its veins shifted like living vines, stitching the head back onto its body. Slowly, he realized that the abomination was regaining its strength; its steps grew more frequent until it broke into a full sprint.