Man and rabbit

It was just Shaun and the rabbit now. The rest of the world blurred into the background. Shaun's senses were heightened—he could feel every breath, every muscle tightening in his body, and even the sweat beading on his skin felt amplified. But it wasn't just his own body he was aware of; he could also sense the rabbit's every breath, each twitch of its muscles. Its back foot hovered just above the ground, ready to launch it forward in an instant. For Shaun, that split second felt like an eternity.

He matched the rabbit's every move—when it breathed, he breathed; when it tensed to spring, he coiled his own muscles, ready to dodge. As his fingers brushed the ground, poised to activate his skill, a sudden sense of urgency struck him. He decided to initiate the dodge immediately. The rabbit vanished from his sight, covering the distance between them in a blink. Shaun was halfway through his dodging motion when he realized something was wrong.

He knew he'd been hurt, but it happened so quickly that his body hadn't fully processed the pain. His eyes drifted to where he thought he'd been struck, and he saw the rabbit had already passed by him. A line of crimson hung in the air like a trail of breadcrumbs, leading straight to where the rabbit now stood.

Time seemed to snap back to its normal pace. Two thuds echoed through the clearing—the sound of the rabbit landing and Shaun collapsing to the ground. Frantically, he checked his body, trying to understand what had happened, and then the pain hit. A searing agony flared in his right abdomen. The rabbit's attack had carved a two-finger-thick gash just below his ribs. If he had been even a fraction of a second slower, or if he had hesitated to dodge, he would be lying there with a gaping hole in his stomach.

The pain was intense, like someone had rubbed his skin raw with sandpaper. The rabbit's fluffy appearance was deceiving—its fur had been moving so fast that it had caused significant damage just by grazing him. Shaun shuddered at the thought of what could have happened if the horn had hit him instead.

Realizing he was vulnerable, Shaun quickly turned to face the rabbit, bracing for another attack. But instead of charging at him, the rabbit was struggling. Its horn was embedded deep into one of the iron-like trees, trees that Shaun's knife couldn't even scratch. The rabbit was stuck, unable to pull itself free from the tree's tough bark.

Shaun exhaled a long breath, chuckling at his unexpected luck—though he immediately regretted it as the pain in his side flared up again. As he lay there, trying to catch his breath, he heard several impacts behind him.

Turning to look, he saw the rabbit hadn't given up. It was using its fluffy front legs to pound the tree with rapid punches, almost like a boxer working over a punching bag. What made Shaun break out in a cold sweat was the fact that the rabbit's punches were actually shaking the tough tree—something Shaun doubted he could do even with all his strength.

If the rabbit had chosen to fight him in close quarters, Shaun knew he wouldn't have stood a chance. The thought of that sent a shiver down his spine. When the rabbit realized its punches weren't enough to free itself, it braced both forelimbs against the tree and began delivering powerful kicks with its back leg, shaking the tree even more violently.

Shaun couldn't just watch any longer—he saw the horn was slowly inching out with each kick. If the rabbit freed itself, it would be deadly. Even if Shaun wanted to kill or capture it, he didn't dare get close. He wasn't Rocky Balboa, and he knew one hit from the rabbit would be the end of him. Plus, he had already felt how tough its fur was; if his first strike didn't kill it, he'd be in serious trouble. On top of that, he had nothing as strong as the tree to trap it with, and the Wrap Trap required a base to activate. Even if he caught it, he'd have to leave it behind.

As he rapidly considered his options, he noticed that the rabbit's kicks had broken off some of the bark on the opposite side of the tree. An idea sparked in his mind. He picked up a fallen section of bark and activated his Wrap Trap on it, gambling that his skills would work on this makeshift base. It seemed he had won this round.

Walking slowly toward the rabbit, Shaun held the bark section like a shield, the trap side facing the rabbit. The rabbit, now more frantic, kicked harder, clearly worried about what Shaun was planning. It was only a few kicks away from breaking free, and Shaun positioned himself to catch it as it jumped off.

One kick… Two kicks… And it was free.

Shaun had calculated where the rabbit would land once it dislodged itself, but he hadn't anticipated the momentum sending it hurtling horn-first toward him.

He ducked behind the shield as the rabbit slammed into it. Man and rabbit flew three meters before they hit the ground. When Shaun looked up, he saw the horn piercing the bark just an inch from where his head had been.

The rabbit's body was now wrapped up like a cocoon in the trap, its horn stuck once again—this time with no leverage to pull itself free.