Saved your lives

Borne's left leg bled profusely, his steps heavy, as if he were dragging chains weighing a thousand pounds.

Dillon supported him, barely maintaining the fragile balance between the two, their heavy breaths blending with the howling wind.

Dillon's hands, though numb, continued to bleed profusely from the palms, yet he gritted his teeth and refused to let Borne fall.

Viktor led the way in front of them, his back and shoulders riddled with wounds.

He frequently glanced back, checking on the two behind him, making sure they were still holding on.

His eyes were filled with vigilance, scanning ahead and around, trying his best to remain calm and guide Dillon and Borne through the peril.

"Damn it, where's the backup!" Viktor growled in frustration, his voice laced with both anxiety and despair.

Blood dripped from all three of them, leaving trails of red in the snow with every step.

The pain from their wounds had long become unbearable.

Borne's face had turned pale, his vision blurring due to blood loss, but he clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep going.

Viktor occasionally glanced back at them, anxiety weighing heavily on his heart as they waited for the help that hadn't yet arrived.

Suddenly, Viktor came to a halt, his expression freezing in place.

His eyes were fixed on something ahead, and his face instantly turned ashen.

Dillon noticed the sudden tension and hurriedly asked, "What's wrong?"

Viktor slowly raised his hand, pointing toward a cold corpse not far away. His voice was low and strained.

"The scout who went to send the message… is dead."

Borne and Dillon followed Viktor's gaze and saw the body half-buried in the snow, lifeless and cold.

It was the very scout they had sent out earlier to call for reinforcements.

The scout had long since stopped breathing, his body stiff and frozen, blood staining the snow. It was clear that he hadn't completed his mission.

The three of them paled, their hearts gripped by an icy hand of despair.

Borne couldn't help but draw in a sharp breath, muttering, "The troops in the rear... they never received our call for help."

They had been relying on the hope that reinforcements would come, but now, that last thread of hope had been severed.

"What do we do?"

Viktor's voice trembled with fear.

Dillon remained silent for a moment, his expression dark and foreboding as he stared at the fallen scout's body.

The heavy weight of despair pressed down on the three of them, suffocating.

Dillon took a deep breath.

"We keep moving.

The rear troops must have noticed something was wrong by now—after all, we haven't sent any signals in so long."

His words, like a lifeline, gave Borne and Viktor a faint glimmer of relief.

"Yes, yes..."

Borne nodded weakly, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as if he were trying to convince himself.

His left leg was still bleeding, and each step sent waves of excruciating pain through his body.

His face had turned deathly pale, and his forehead was slick with cold sweat.

"They must have noticed..."

Viktor echoed, though his voice also carried a note of weariness.

Nevertheless, he held his sword tightly, his steps unwavering.

Blood continued to flow from the wounds on his back, and the searing pain burned, but he clenched his teeth and forced himself to stay on his feet.

The three of them, battered and exhausted, dragged their wounded bodies forward, step by agonizing step.

Each step through the snow drained their strength, the icy ground crunching under their feet.

Suddenly, Viktor's ears twitched.

His face changed abruptly, and he quickly turned, eyes filled with determination.

He shoved Dillon and Borne away with all his might.

Caught off guard, Dillon and Borne tumbled into the snow.

Just as they were about to get up, they both looked up—and time seemed to stop.

Dillon felt as if his insides were being torn apart, a searing pain surging through his chest. He could hardly believe what he was seeing.

The intense pain in his chest caused him to gasp for air, and a mouthful of blood spewed from his lips.

The crimson liquid spread across the snow, staining his clothes red.

Borne's nose, eyes, mouth, and ears all began to bleed simultaneously.

Blood trickled down his face as his eyes filled with pressure, the sudden shock rendering him nearly unconscious.

The intense pain left his mind blank.

Viktor's waist was clamped in the Thunder Tiger's massive jaws, blood pouring from the deep wounds.

His sword had fallen to the ground, no longer within his grasp.

Summoning the last of his strength, Viktor slowly raised his trembling right hand.

With great effort, he gave a shaky thumbs-up, pointing at oneself, a faint smile appearing on his face.

"Dad just saved your lives…"

Viktor's voice was hoarse, as if using every ounce of his remaining strength.

With those words, his right hand dropped lifelessly to the ground.

The Thunder Tiger's jaws crushed Viktor's waist, and his lower body collapsed to the ground, blood instantly soaking the snow.

Blood dripped from the Thunder Tiger's jaws, staining its chin.

The magic beast spat out Viktor's upper half.

Viktor lay silently on the snow, and everything around him fell into a deathly stillness.

The Thunder Tiger slowly turned its head, its yellow eyes as sharp and cold as blades, locking onto the fallen Borne and Dillon.

At that moment, Borne and Dillon stared blankly at the ground where Viktor lay.

Borne's consciousness began to fade, as if enveloped in a thick fog.

His senses started shutting down, one by one.

The scene before him grew blurrier, the world slipping out of focus.

The howling winds and the blizzard's roar seemed to fade away, as if the entire world had fallen silent, leaving behind only emptiness.

His nose no longer detected any smells.

The scent of snow and blood had vanished completely.

The pain in his body began to feel distant, as if it were separated from him by an impenetrable barrier.

He began to reject the world around him.

Reject the feelings, reject the sounds, reject existence.

The brutal scene around him seemed to be wiped from his mind, gradually fading from memory.

His body felt weightless, floating in a vast void.

In that silent darkness, he slowly lost his connection to reality, no longer resisting, no longer struggling.

It felt as though his soul had detached from his body, slowly sinking into the depths of oblivion.

Here, there was nothing but chains, each one a link in an unbreakable prison.

In the endless darkness, Borne vaguely heard a voice.

"Leon, what are you doing? He's my child!"

A woman's scream pierced the darkness, filled with terror and despair.

Her voice trembled as she held a baby tightly in her arms, backing away in fear.

Standing in front of her was a tall, broad man with golden hair that gleamed in the faint light.

He stepped closer, his massive shadow looming over the woman and the baby, radiating an oppressive presence.

"He's my child too!"

The man's voice was a deep, thunderous roar.

The woman clutched the baby tightly, her whole body shaking, but her gaze remained fierce, full of maternal protection.

The standoff between the two was eerily clear in the darkness.