Rolin ran.
Not the run of a man merely fleeing—
but the run of someone who knew that every step delayed
was paid for with blood somewhere else.
His lungs burned.
His feet slammed against the jagged stone without mercy.
Cold air tore through his chest like knives.
And in the distance—
A blue glow.
Fire that was not fire.
Light unlike torches or campflames.
Blue fire that moved…
rose and fell…
and struck the darkness like an enraged heart.
Rolin's heart froze for a fraction of a second.
Likath…
He needed no explanation.
No scream. No sound.
That glow could mean only one thing—
A man fighting a monster
that was never meant to be fought.
Rolin tightened his grip on the leather bag
and pulled Lulu closer to his chest,
as if his arms alone could become a shield against the world.
He ran faster.
Faster than he believed his body could endure.
Faster than bone, muscle, and fear allowed.
Behind him—
the ground trembled at intervals,
not like an earthquake,
but like a deep pulse—
as if the mountain itself were in pain.
Then—
Lulu stirred.
She shifted slightly,
let out a soft sound,
and opened her eyes.
Her emerald gaze reflected the distant blue light.
She didn't scream.
Didn't cry.
She simply looked…
then whispered, her voice soft and heavy with sleep:
"Brother…
where are we?"
Something shattered inside Rolin's chest.
Not fear.
Not exhaustion.
Something far worse.
He didn't stop running.
Didn't look back.
He was gasping now,
each breath torn from him,
as if he were ripping air straight from the mountain's lungs.
"We're getting out,"
he said, hoarse but firm.
"We're getting out… now."
Lulu clutched his shirt tighter,
rested her head against his chest,
listening to his racing heartbeat—
fast…
strong…
terrified.
"Are we… are we playing?"
she asked innocently,
knowing nothing of monsters,
nothing of men who die so others may live.
Rolin tightened his arms around her.
"Yes," he said—
and the lie weighed more than any truth.
"Just a running game."
From afar—
A blue explosion.
Light flared for an instant—
then vanished.
Rolin stumbled.
Recovered.
Kept running.
He didn't look back.
He couldn't.
Because looking back
meant admitting the truth.
And he knew—
Some truths,
when faced directly,
kill faster than any monster.
He ran.
Not knowing—
Was he running toward salvation…
or running away from the last man
who had ever stood between him and death?
He ran.
Until—
Silence.
No explosion.
No echo.
No tremor.
The silence fell suddenly—
heavy, absolute, unnatural.
Rolin faltered.
His heart stopped for a blink.
No…
He turned.
There was no glow.
No blue fire.
No light.
Nothing.
Only darkness—
as if the light had never existed at all.
At the same moment—
Lulu gripped his shirt tightly.
Her voice came out as a whisper—
and this time, the whisper
was more terrifying than any scream:
"Brother…
why is the mountain breathing?"
Rolin froze.
Then—
The sound came.
Not a roar.
Not a scream.
But a low, deep laugh,
echoing from every direction at once.
A laugh that belonged to no mouth,
no throat—
But to the stone itself.
And in his hand—
Rolin felt something warm
slowly seep
between his fingers.
He looked.
The small metal sphere—
was cracking.
From within—
Blue light
began to leak.
Drop…
by drop.
Then—
It went out.
Rolin ignored everything.
And ran.
As if the earth itself were burning behind him.
As if the mountain had decided to devour him the moment he slowed.
His muscles screamed.
His lungs felt aflame.
His knees begged him to stop.
He ignored it all.
Because the extinguishing of the glow—
the death of the blue fire—
meant only one thing.
Likath…
was dead.
Rolin didn't need to see the body.
Didn't need a final scream.
The mountain told him the truth—
when it fell silent.
Something strange spread inside his chest.
Not grief.
Not guilt.
Something heavier.
Emptiness.
I never understood him,
Rolin thought as he ran.
I never understood Likath.
Why was he so calm?
Why was he kind… in a place without mercy?
Why did he sacrifice himself?
For a child?
For a young man who deceived him, used him, led others to their deaths?
He could have fled.
He could have let the monster devour them all—
and lived.
In this mountain,
where brutality was honest—
The greatest mystery
was Likath.
For a single heartbeat,
Rolin wished he had known him better.
But regret
is a luxury of the living.
He ran.
Until—
He reached it.
The crossroads.
He stopped abruptly.
His expression hardened.
Cold seeped into his eyes.
"Damn it…"
Then again, broken:
"Damn it… damn it… how do we get out?"
Two paths.
Left—
a dense, silent snow forest rising toward the peak.
A place no one returned from.
Right—
a narrow, dark passage sloping downward,
toward the knights' gathering Likath spoke of.
In that moment—
Rolin understood.
Not everyone would survive.
Not on this mountain.
Survival
demands a price.
He looked down at Lulu in his arms.
Small.
Light.
Warm.
The solution was terrifyingly simple.
He could make her run.
He could leave her behind.
He could make her—
the bait.
I could live.
He lowered her slowly.
Her knees touched the cold stone.
"Lulu,"
he said, forcing cheer into his voice.
"Let's play a game."
She looked up, curious, eyes wide and pure.
"Of course! What game?"
Rolin smiled.
A cracked smile.
"Hide and seek."
She beamed with genuine joy.
But Rolin's chest—
ached.
I'm sorry, Lulu…
But I want to live.
Then—
She said it.
Simply.
Fatally.
"I like playing with you…
because you're my only family."
Rolin froze.
Something stabbed into his heart—
and twisted.
Anger surged.
At himself.
At the mountain.
At Likath.
At a world
that makes children pay for the sins of adults.
He knelt before her.
"Lulu… listen carefully.
This game has special rules."
She nodded seriously.
"I know hide and seek."
"No,"
he said quietly.
"This one is different."
She hesitated.
Then smiled.
"Okay."
He pointed to the left path.
"You can't go that way."
She frowned.
"That's not fun."
"You're very fast…
and I can't catch you.
That makes it fair."
She sighed.
Then nodded.
"Okay."
Rolin swallowed.
"Second rule…"
His voice dropped.
"Never stop running.
No matter what happens."
"When does the game end?"
she asked excitedly.
He hesitated.
Then said:
"When I catch you…
or—"
"Or what?"
"Or when you reach kind people…
down below."
Her face lit up.
"Then let's start!"
Rolin stood.
And spoke his final words,
his voice steady—
though his heart shattered:
"Lulu…
no matter what you hear,
no matter what you feel,
no matter who calls your name…"
He stepped closer.
"Don't make a sound.
Don't stop.
Don't come back."
Then he whispered:
"Run."
Deep within the mountain—
Something moved.
And Rolin knew—
The game
had already begun.
Lulu ran down the right path—
the path of survival.
Her steps were light, small, but steady.
As if the mountain itself hesitated to block her way.
Before entering the narrow passage—
She stopped.
Turned.
Lifted her small hand and waved, smiling brightly—
a smile that knew no fear,
and no meaning of bait.
"Brother…
I love you."
Rolin froze.
The world—
stopped.
He heard nothing else.
He opened his mouth—
to speak—
to scream—
to call her back—
But his voice betrayed him.
She had already turned away,
entered the passage,
and disappeared.
Her smile lingered—
suspended in the air.
One second.
Then—
The mountain trembled.
A low, deep roar—
neither near nor far.
As if something
had chosen its direction.
Rolin stood alone at the crossroads.
The left path behind him.
The right path ahead.
And in his chest—
A hollow
that survival could no longer fill.
Darkness slowly drew its curtain.
Rolin lunged toward the left path.
The leather bag slammed against his back.
His breath tore at his chest.
He entered the snow forest,
slid behind a massive tree—
its black, cracked trunk
like an ancient witness to countless deaths.
He crouched.
Held his breath.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
Then—
It appeared.
Emerging from the shadows
as if darkness itself had birthed it.
A massive tiger-like beast.
White-and-black fur, scarred like old wounds.
Eyes burning red—
not animal eyes,
but the eyes of something that had learned to hunt humans.
Its claws gouged the ice effortlessly.
Its chest rose and fell with heavy breaths—
as if the mountain breathed through it.
It reached the crossroads.
Lowered its head.
Sniffed.
Rolin froze.
No…
The beast turned—
and moved toward the right path.
Toward Lulu.
Rolin's chest tightened.
Something inside him—
was not fear.
It was a decision.
No.
You won't touch her.
He scooped snow into his hand.
Compressed it hard—
a small, brutal sphere.
Then—
He stepped out.
Raised his arm.
And threw.
Crack!
The snowball struck the beast's head.
The creature snapped around.
Red eyes flared.
Its body lowered.
Claws dug into the ice.
Rolin stepped forward.
His voice rang out—
loud, steady, defiant:
"Hey, ugly furball…
If you can—
come and get me."
Silence.
Then—
The beast smiled.
Yes.
Smiled.
It bared long, yellowed fangs,
dark saliva dripping.
Its body sank lower.
The ice beneath it
began to crack.
Rolin did not retreat.
Inside him—
there was no thought of survival.
Only one thing—
Time.
And if he had to burn—
Then let him burn
until the very last second