The yeti groaned as it pulled itself from the rubble of the shattered mountainside. Thick chunks of ice and jagged rock tumbled away from its colossal form, revealing its now battle-worn fur, patches of frost-covered skin exposed where Ethan's counter had landed. It panted heavily, its breath a swirling mist in the frozen air, but its gaze had changed—no longer just that of a wild beast, but of something ancient, something desperate.
Ethan cracked his knuckles, his grin unwavering. "Still standing? Good. I'd hate for this to end too quickly."
The yeti didn't roar this time. It didn't lunge mindlessly like before. Instead, it raised both of its hands, pressing its palms together. The entire mountain trembled in response.
Ethan's eyes narrowed as he felt the shift.
