Boom!
The mutated rabbit exploded into motion.
One moment it was still. The next, it became a blur of movement, vanishing from Azrael's sight entirely. His eyes strained to follow, but all he could see were streaks of color and the shifting of leaves in the underbrush.
The creature wasn't just fast it was inhumanly fast.
Azrael turned, spun, twisted chasing shadows but the beast kept circling him, a phantom in the fog. He swung wildly once, twice, but each time his blade found nothing but air.
Frustration built in his chest like a coiled spring. Too fast. Too damn fast.
Then, it struck.
With deadly intent, the rabbit lunged, its three jagged horns aimed straight at his gut.
Azrael didn't see it but he heard it.
"Move left! It's coming! Mooooove left, you fool!"
The voices. The whispers of the dead.
In the split second between instinct and impact, he obeyed. Azrael dove to his left, just as the beast slashed through the space he'd occupied.
The air where he had stood split with a loud crack as the horns missed by inches.
He hit the ground hard, rolled, and came up on one knee eyes wide, chest heaving.
That… was too close.
He looked around, half in shock, half in awe. The skill Whispers of the Shadows had saved him. The dead had screamed a warning, and he'd listened.
A slow grin crept onto his face.
This skill... it's a cheat.
He had no time to celebrate. The mutated bunny froze mid-step, briefly stunned by its missed attack. Azrael didn't waste the chance. He dashed forward, blade low, aiming for the beast's exposed flank.
But once again he hit nothing but wind.
The beast was gone before the blade landed, moving in another maddening circle around him.
Azrael tightened his grip on his weapon. This time, he didn't panic. He didn't chase ghosts.
He waited. He listened. And then "Behind you low roll roll!"
He dropped into a roll as the monster launched from behind, missing him by a thread.
This time, Azrael countered. As he rose from the roll, he slashed horizontally in a swift arc the blade slashed its stomach. And Blood sprayed. Soon A screech followed.
He'd grazed the creature's side barely, but enough to draw first blood.
It shrieked in fury, landing hard and skidding across the forest floor. For the first time, it stopped its relentless circling. Now it watched him with real caution and something close to respect.
Azrael grinned wider, panting.
"Yeah… you're not the only predator here."
He felt it now their emotions, the dead weren't just whispering. They were watching.
The mutated rabbit hissed, its blood matting the twisted fur at its side. Azrael remained still, sword raised, chest rising and falling with exertion. Sweat trickled down his brow, stinging his eyes. The forest was silent except for the beast's ragged breathing and the faint murmurs of the dead swirling around him like ghosts in a graveyard.
Then the rabbit charged again.
Faster this time.
Azrael barely saw it before pain bloomed in his side. The world spun as he was flung backward, crashing through underbrush and slamming into a tree. He gasped, the wind knocked from his lungs. Blood soaked through his shirt three shallow gouges across his ribs, one dangerously deep. The bastard hadn't gone for a kill shot. It wanted him to bleed first.
It's toying with me…
Azrael's arm trembled as he forced himself to his feet, teeth clenched. His left hand gripped his sword, but his fingers were slick with blood. His body screamed in protest, vision blurred.
The beast approached again, slower this time, savoring the moment.
The whispers screamed
"Duck low"
"Feint right,then spin,"
"Cut through the leg! It's weaker there!"
Azrael listened.
He dodged low as the rabbit lunged horns just missing his throat. His sword lashed out in a desperate upward swing, and metal met flesh.
A howl erupted from the rabbit as he slashed one of its legs clean through.
It stumbled momentarily crippled.
But before Azrael could land a finishing blow, it twisted midair and slammed its head against his chest.
CRACK.
Ribs shattered. He felt it.
Azrael flew backward and hit the ground, coughing blood. Every breath felt like daggers in his lungs. The whispers dulled, drowned beneath the white-hot pain flooding his body.
He was dying.
He couldn't afford to hesitate.
Azrael reached for his side pouch, his bloody hand fumbling with the latch until it snapped open. Inside among scraps of food and spare clips was a single vial.
A faintly glowing red potion, swirling with thick fluid like molten fire.
The healing potion from the Association's Guild.
200,000 yuan.
His entire reward for the last three quests.
He popped the cork and downed it in one gulp.
It burned like fire down his throat like his body was being torn apart and stitched back together in real time. His ribs mended with a sickening crack. The blood stopped. His breathing returned.
But he screamed.
The pain of healing was as brutal as the injury itself.
When it ended, he lay still for a moment, soaked in blood and sweat, vision swimming.
But he was alive.
And the rabbit was limping, watching him from across the field, blood pouring from its wounded leg. Its breathing was labored, and the madness in its eyes was waning.
Azrael stood slowly.
"Your turn to bleed," he muttered, eyes burning with resolve.
He stepped forward.
The whispers returned no longer frantic, but in sync with him now. The dead were calm. Cold and Focused.
He rushed the creature feinting once, then spun into a brutal diagonal slash. The rabbit tried to jump away but it was too late.
Azrael's sword carved through its midsection, splitting it in two.
Blood sprayed across the trees. The mutated bunny let out one final, garbled screech before collapsing into a twitching, broken heap.
Azrael stood over the corpse, panting. Covered in gore. Heart pounding.
"…and stay down," he muttered in frustration.
The forest fell silent once more. No wind. No whispers.
Only the sound of Azrael breathing alive.
Barely.
As the creature's body hit the ground with a sickening thud, Azrael stumbled back a step, nearly collapsing from exhaustion. His sword hung low, his muscles trembling, blood caking his face and hands.
Then his system notification appeared
Ding.
A familiar sound echoed in his mind, clear and emotionless "Now the bitch is about to send a message.
________________________________________
[Congratulations on defeating a Rare Mutated Rabbit]
[500 EXP rewarded]
[+5 to all stats]
[12 Free Stat Points gained]
_______________________________________
The notifications scrolled before his eyes, glowing faintly in the air like ethereal script.
He stared at them, breath caught in his throat.
That thing was rare... and I still almost died.
But the stat increase surged through him like warm electricity. His wounds weren't just healed they were strengthened. His limbs steadied. His senses sharpened And he felt energised but his fatigue stat was over 60.
Still, the pain of the fight lingered in his bones. The memory of the rabbit's blazing speed and brutal strength haunted him. Had he hesitated for even a second, he would've been meat in the dirt.
He looked down at his trembling hands.
"Five to all stats…" he muttered. "Twelve free…"
Azrael sat down heavily on a nearby rock, opened his system interface with a thought, and began allocating.
But even as he did, a realization crept in this was just the beginning.
If a rare-class beast nearly killed him, what horrors waited deeper in the wildlands?