Humanities weakness.
You turn and begin to sprint in the opposite direction, your breath coming out in frantic gasps as the beast’s heavy footsteps slam against the snow behind you. Each step it takes shakes the ground, sending a cold shiver down your spine. You push yourself harder, but the snow slows you down, dragging at your legs like an unseen force determined to pull you under.
Then—disaster.
Your foot catches on a buried rock, sending you hurtling forward. Your body crashes onto the frozen ground, momentum carrying you straight into another jagged rock ahead. The impact is brutal—your skull collides with solid stone, and an explosion of pain ripples through your head. A sharp ringing fills your ears as your vision blurs, black spots clouding your sight.
Disoriented, you barely register that you’re still moving. The world tilts as your body begins rolling down the snowy hill, completely out of control. The cold bites into your skin, the snow dampening your clothes as you pick up speed.
Then, through your dazed mind, you realize the real danger—just ahead, the slope ends in a sheer drop. A deep, endless abyss waits below, ready to swallow you whole. If you go over, there’s no surviving it.
Panic surges through you. You need to stop. You try to dig your fingers into the snow, but it offers no grip. Your heart pounds as you search desperately for a way out. Your rifle is still in your hands—if you slam the barrel into the ground, maybe it’ll catch onto something and slow you down.
Or do you take your chances, reaching out for anything solid, hoping that by some miracle, you’ll find something to grab onto before it’s too late?
Time is running out. Do you use your rifle to stop your fall, or reach for anything that might save you?
Then—disaster.
Your foot catches on a buried rock, sending you hurtling forward. Your body crashes onto the frozen ground, momentum carrying you straight into another jagged rock ahead. The impact is brutal—your skull collides with solid stone, and an explosion of pain ripples through your head. A sharp ringing fills your ears as your vision blurs, black spots clouding your sight.
Disoriented, you barely register that you’re still moving. The world tilts as your body begins rolling down the snowy hill, completely out of control. The cold bites into your skin, the snow dampening your clothes as you pick up speed.
Then, through your dazed mind, you realize the real danger—just ahead, the slope ends in a sheer drop. A deep, endless abyss waits below, ready to swallow you whole. If you go over, there’s no surviving it.
Panic surges through you. You need to stop. You try to dig your fingers into the snow, but it offers no grip. Your heart pounds as you search desperately for a way out. Your rifle is still in your hands—if you slam the barrel into the ground, maybe it’ll catch onto something and slow you down.
Or do you take your chances, reaching out for anything solid, hoping that by some miracle, you’ll find something to grab onto before it’s too late?
Time is running out. Do you use your rifle to stop your fall, or reach for anything that might save you?