The frozen wasteland stretched endlessly before Arthur, an expanse of white and blue with no beginning and no end. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling from exhaustion, but he forced himself forward, step by step. The wind howled around him, biting at his exposed skin like a thousand tiny knives. His torn clothes did little to protect him, and the cold was relentless, sinking into his bones like a second curse.
The only thing he was wearing, was a torn rag that had so many holes in it, that it felt as if he wasn't wearing anything at all.
The only thing keeping him moving was the knowledge that stopping meant death.
Arthur's legs ached as he trudged across the ice, his boots barely keeping traction on the treacherous surface. The battle with the Frost Elf had drained him, but something deeper stirred within him, a hunger, a newfound strength, a whisper in his mind urging him forward. He wasn't sure if it was the Blood Feast or his own desperation, but he could feel a change within himself.
He clenched his fists, still stained with the glowing blue blood of the creature he had slain. The taste of victory was intoxicating, yet his instincts told him there would be more trials ahead.
And he was right.
A distant noise made him freeze.
Arthur's ears, numbed by the wind, barely caught it at first. A soft crunch, something stepping on the ice. Slowly, carefully, he turned his head.
A fraction of a second later, a sharp piece of ice flew a few centimeters besides his head, but Arthur narrowly avoided it and jumped to the side.
Now he was lying on the cold ground, looking in the direction where the sharp ice spike was thrown from.
Two blue, tall figures appeared from behind a gigantic ice spike sticking out of the ground.
Their bodies glowed faintly in the dim light, their icy-blue skin nearly blending into the frozen landscape. They were taller than the first Elf he had fought, their three glowing eyes fixed on him with an eerie stillness. Their movements were slow but deliberate, the way predators moved when they knew their prey had nowhere to run.
Arthur inhaled sharply. His fingers twitched, reaching for another shard of ice.
These Elves weren't injured like the last one.
They were strong.
And there were two of them.
He knew he had no choice. He had to fight.
The Ice Elves moved in sync, their clawed hands glistening like sharpened daggers. Arthur barely had time to react before the first one lunged, slashing toward his throat with inhuman speed.
Just after he finally stood up again, he threw himself backward, narrowly avoiding the attack, but his foot slipped on the ice. He hit the ground hard again, pain jolting through his spine.
No time to recover. The second Elf was already upon him.
Arthur rolled to the side, dodging another swipe, and scrambled to his feet. He grabbed a jagged piece of ice from the ground, gripping it so tightly that his numb fingers barely felt it. His mind raced.
I can't take them both at once.
He needed to separate them.
Arthur feigned a stumble, making himself appear weak. The first Elf took the bait, leaping toward him with an open strike. At the last second, Arthur twisted his body, slashing his ice shard across the creature's exposed midsection.
A deep gash tore through the Elf's stomach and forearm, blue blood splattering onto the frozen ground.
The Elf screeched in pain, staggering back. Arthur didn't stop. He drove his shoulder into the wounded creature, knocking it further away, before spinning to face the second one.
But it was already too close.
A clawed hand slashed across his side.
Pain.
Arthur let out a sharp gasp, stumbling as warm red blood flowed out of the wounds. The cold burned against the fresh wound, but he didn't have time to feel it.
The Elf pressed forward, sensing weakness. Arthur gritted his teeth and drove his ice shard toward its throat, but this one was faster. The creature tilted its head, dodging the strike effortlessly.
Arthur's eyes widened.
A powerful kick sent him flying backward, crashing against an ice spike. His vision blurred for a moment. The Elf was already approaching again.
'Move!'
Arthur willed his body to react. He rolled to the side just as claws raked across where his head had been, missing him by inches. He scrambled to his feet, panting, his wound aching with every movement.
His mind was sharp despite the exhaustion.
He had to kill one before the other could join.
Arthur turned his gaze toward the wounded Elf, the one he had cut earlier. It was clutching its stomach, its glowing eyes flickering with fury.
Arthur's lips curled into a smirk.
He rushed toward the injured Elf. It snarled and swiped at him, but its movements were slower now. The wound was deep. Arthur ducked under its attack and drove his ice shard deep into its chest.
The creature shrieked, its three eyes going wide as blue blood gushed from the wound. Arthur twisted the shard, then yanked it free, sending the Elf collapsing onto the ice.
[ You have killed a Common Feral, Frost Elf. ]
'One down'
The second Elf screeched in fury. Arthur barely had time to react before it pounced. The impact sent him tumbling to the ground, the Elf's claws pinning him down.
Its third eye gleamed with murderous intent.
Arthur struggled, his muscles burning, but the Elf's strength was overwhelming. Its claws dug into his shoulders, ice-cold and razor-sharp.
He couldn't move.
The Elf opened its mouth, revealing jagged teeth, and let out a guttural snarl. It was preparing to tear his throat out.
Arthur's mind screamed. His instincts flared.
With every ounce of strength he had left, he wrenched his arm free and drove his ice shard directly into the Elf's throat.
A sickening crunch.
The Elf's shriek was strangled, choked with its own blood. It recoiled, clawing at its throat as blue liquid poured from the wound.
Arthur didn't waste a second.
He lunged forward, grabbing another ice shard from the ground, and stabbed it into the creature's chest with everything he had left.
The Elf thrashed violently, then fell still.
[ You have killed a Common Feral, Frost Elf. ]
Arthur collapsed onto his back, gasping for air. His body ached, his vision swam, but he was alive.
He had won.
Today again not his blood was on the ground, but his enemies.
Arthur lay there for a long moment, staring at the endless sky above him. The pale light had begun to fade, replaced by creeping darkness.
The night was coming.
And he had no idea what waited for him in the dark.
He forced himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain. The wind was colder now, harsher, whispering through the ice like a warning. The frozen wasteland was dangerous enough during the day, but at night?
He wasn't sure if he would survive.
Then he remembered something.
Arthur took an Ice Shard and slashed at one of the dead ice elves arms and picked it up. A split second later he bit into it, his teeth sunk deep into the flesh of the elf.
He started to drink the blue Blood, and just as he took the first sip, he heard something.
[You have consumed the blood of a Common Feral, Frost Elf]
Suddenly his wounds that he gathered in the fight started to slowly close, slowly at first, but the more blood he consumed the faster they closed.
"Blood Feast is a Great Skill!" Arthur was happy that he was finally able to get stronger.
But before he could drink more icy blood, the blood and bodies of the frost elves were already frozen.
Arthur took one last glance at the fallen Elves, their bodies completely frozen.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked forward, vanishing into the approaching night like a phantom.