I never thought that saying those words—even if only inside my own head—would hurt this much.

  Why?

  I couldn’t answer that now.

  I kept my eyes shut, waiting for the worst—or rather, the most logical outcome. Being devoured. Waking up inside the creature’s stomach—something like that.

  No… it doesn’t seem like it.

  The clicking continued.

  I felt the sound more than I heard it. A wet, uneven clicking—like something broken trying to keep working. The creature was still there.

  Massive. And… motionless.

  It didn’t advance, didn’t move, didn’t react.

  The mouths where eyes should have been trembled, opening and closing in useless spasms, spitting that thick saliva that never stopped dripping—falling onto the snow-covered ground with an almost inaudible sound.

  Nothing happened.

  Every part of my body screamed to move. A reflex. A twitch. Anything.

  But I didn’t move. Not a finger. I wasn’t even sure I was breathing.

  It was only a few meters away.

  Close enough that I could see the contractions of the twisted muscles in its arms—arms larger than its own body. Close enough that I could smell it. Something metallic. Sour. Wrong.

  And yet… nothing.

  The silence around us was suffocating.

  The sound tore through the night.

  One of the crooked caravan structures, already unstable, collapsed under the force of the wind, slamming violently into the snow. Wood snapping. Metal screeching. Too loud.

  The creature reacted in the same instant.

  It twisted, releasing a deep, wet grunt—something between irritation and hunger—and then charged.

  Not at me.

  Not at anyone.

  It rushed straight toward the sound, arms opening like living blades, striking the empty air, tearing into the fallen structure, destroying what was already destroyed. Brutal. Wild. And blind.

  When it finished, it stopped completely still. Waiting.

  Just like before.

  Just like when it had been three meters away from me.

  I… noticed something.

  It hadn’t reacted to my presence, my gaze, my restrained breathing or my exposed body right there.

  But it reacted to sound.

  My heart raced, and I fought to keep that from turning into movement.

  With absurd care, I slowly reached down. My fingers brushed against something rigid—a small stone, cold and uneven. I held it like a bomb about to explode.

  I took a breath and threw it.

  The stone landed far away. The impact was minimal. Almost nothing.

  And yet—

  The creature shrieked.

  The sound was sharp, distorted—and then it attacked again, ripping through the air exactly where the stone had landed, arms crashing down with useless violence.

  Then… silence.

  And the clicking echoed once more through the night.

  The pieces were coming together.

  The creature shifted to the side, once again exposing its entire “face” to everyone.

  Maybe desperation and adrenaline made me miss it earlier. But now, the answer was clear. Obvious.

  I slowly stood up, still balanced atop the broken wooden plank.

  Everyone’s eyes widened.

  I felt their silent panic.

  The man who was alive purely by luck… standing up. Facing the thing head-on. On his feet.

  I almost laughed.

  Not mockery—but at the absurd realization that the solution was… simple. Irritatingly simple.

  I raised a finger to my lips, signaling silence.

  No one dared breathe.

  I scanned my surroundings.

  Wooden planks were scattered everywhere, identical to the one beneath me. Fragments and shattered beams from what had once been the caravan lay spread out like small islands.

  Perfect.

  As the adrenaline faded and clarity took its place, everything clicked: the creature had no nose. No eyes. Where they should have been—mouths.

  It relied entirely on hearing and vibration.

  That was why it had ignored me.

  All of us were either completely still or standing on planks and debris like this—separated from the ground. Separated from sound.

  The clouds finally drifted away, allowing the moon’s silver light to pierce the snowfall. My vision wasn’t clear—but it was enough.

  At the end of a nearly perfect line of planks… there it was.

  Ford’s sword.

  Lying in the snow. Intact.

  And I swear—there was a thin pillar of moonlight shining directly down on it, like the world itself was mocking me.

  Not that I believed in one. But in that moment, it was the only thought I had. I took a deep breath—as silently as I could.

  I closed my eyes and began jumping from plank to plank, making sure not a single sound escaped.

  Good… I still remember.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  An assassin’s technique known as [Null Step].

  It wasn’t absolute silence—there’s no such thing. I simply didn’t let sound be born. Before my foot touched the surface, the impact was already spread through my entire body, dissipated instead of concentrated. The weight died inside me.

  That’s why… that thing didn’t react to me.

  The Marked stared as if I had completely lost my mind—the condemned man who had accepted death moments ago was now hopping across debris with full confidence.

  I jumped to another plank.

  Nothing.

  No tek. No crack. No vibration.

  It was working.

  That’s when I saw the sword again.

  Embedded in the ground like a forgotten trophy. The blade reflected the newly freed moonlight—thin, almost ironic—as if calling to me.

  A perfect path of planks led to it… except for the end.

  Too short to ignore. Too far to reach with a jump.

  I swallowed hard.

  I forced myself to calm down. Everything was still under control—and that’s what mattered. I had enough experience to know that [Null Step] worked on any solid surface.

  I need to touch the ground.

  I repeated it like a mantra.

  I bent my knees slowly. My heart was pounding, but I controlled the rhythm. Ignored the desperate stares behind me. Ignored the creature. Ignored fear.

  I jumped.

  And the moment my foot sank—not with a sound… but with a treacherous give.

  The snow collapsed under my weight, compressing silently—but transmitting everything. The vibration didn’t spread. Didn’t die.

  It traveled.

  I felt it before I heard anything.

  The creature reacted.

  Its head snapped toward me in one violent motion, far too fast for something that size. The mouths where eyes should have been opened wider, teeth trembling in sudden ecstasy.

  The ground beneath me began to vibrate.

  The shriek thundered through the night as it charged at me like a runaway train.

  The Marked scattered instantly, realizing my strategy—until now perfect—had failed.

  The creature’s arms spread wide, and just before I was completely crushed by its body, I leapt forward, narrowly avoiding the attack and grabbing the short sword.

  “Bastard!”

  I charged and struck with the blade.

  I didn’t expect much from an intermediate-grade sword, but all I managed was a shallow cut across its carapace.

  It stopped.

  Not because it felt pain—that was obvious almost immediately—but because it chose to.

  The creature slowly turned to face me, heavy and deliberate, as if every movement was calculated. The mouths contracted, teeth grinding in an uneven rhythm.

  The sound was different now. Faster.

  “Yeah…” I muttered, tightening my grip. “Figures it’d be me.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw the others spreading out. Some hid behind debris, others moved sideways, stepping carefully—too carefully.

  They understood.

  I was the noise now.

  “I’m sick of you…!”

  I shouted, drawing its attention, drowning out whatever sounds the others might make.

  At least that part was working.

  The creature advanced.

  It didn’t run. Didn’t charge like before. It simply walked toward me, each step lightly shaking the snow.

  It didn’t need speed. It knew I was there.

  I stepped back. Then another.

  “Now!” Ilen shouted.

  The impact was brutal.

  The iron shard pierced halfway into the exposed flesh of its neck with a wet, sickening sound.

  The creature froze. All the mouths trembled at once.

  “Did we…?” someone began.

  For a brief moment, it looked like the strike had worked.

  The creature staggered half a step, its grotesque rhythm broken. Its neck no longer moved freely—something inside had been knocked out of alignment.

  Then it understood.

  And it became furious.

  Its arm joints snapped open, rearranging themselves in ways that were far too wrong to be natural. The limbs stretched—too long, too flexible—whips of flesh and carapace.

  The sound it made wasn’t a scream.

  It was a cry.

  A shrill, deep wail that ripped through the air like thunder tearing the sky. Even the snowstorm seemed to recoil.

  “Shit—!”

  One arm swept forward with absurd force. Rafe and Darien were hit at the same time, thrown in opposite directions like they weighed nothing.

  Darien hit first.

  His body rolled across the snow before stopping abruptly—impaled. Skewered on a jagged wooden spike.

  Rafe was luckier. He crashed into the ground, rolling and smashing his head against a stone hidden beneath the snow. Bad—but not fatal.

  The others weren’t so fortunate.

  Claws tore into the ground. Mouths closed where they shouldn’t exist. Bodies vanished beneath the snow—dragged, crushed, devoured.

  The screams didn’t last long.

  Something inside me snapped.

  Maybe desperation, maybe guilt—maybe just rage.

  I ran.

  Ignored fear. Ignored logic. Ignored the part of my brain screaming that this was suicide.

  I leapt, using the remains of the caravan as leverage, aiming for the only place that came to mind.

  The mouths where eyes should be.

  I drove the sword in with a desperate kick, forcing the blade between pulsing teeth.

  The creature shrieked, the sound distorted, maddened. Its head thrashed violently, trying to fling me away.

  I didn’t let go.

  I pushed with everything I had.

  Muscles burning. Metal screaming. Blood pouring out.

  “Come on…!”

  The resistance was unreal. The blade sank deeper, scraping against something hard—

  And then—

  The sword broke.

  The hilt remained in my hand, the blade shattered. The rest disappeared into the creature’s pulsing mouth.

  For a second, I just stared.

  …Of course it did.

  The creature thrashed even harder.

  I lost my balance and fell into the snow.

  A shadow loomed over me instantly. Jaws opened. Mouths pulsing. Teeth descending—too fast to think.

  Something yanked me away.

  Ilen.

  He tackled me, dragging us both clear just as the jaws snapped shut where I had been.

  The creature rose, its body creaking. Blood dripped from the wounded neck, staining the snow. Its arms lashed the air one final time.

  It hesitated.

  Not from fear. From choice.

  The ground exploded in snow and earth as its massive body sank back down, vanishing as if it had never been there.

  The wind returned.

  Leaving only drifting snow.

  And with it… emptiness.

  Darien was still breathing when we reached him.

  Rafe pressed his hands against the wound, trembling, as if strength alone could deny reality.

  It couldn’t.

  Blood kept slipping through his fingers, far too warm against the snow.

  Darien opened his eyes slowly.

  “Hey…” his voice was weak, but clear. “At least… it wasn’t too fast, right?”

  No one laughed.

  He swallowed, took one last breath, and looked at the three of us.

  “Funny…” he murmured. “I just wanted to go home. See my wife… my kids…” a crooked smile. “Bet they wouldn’t even recognize me.”

  Rafe turned away.

  Ilen clenched his jaw.

  I stood still.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  Emotions like this had always been inconvenient in my old life.

  “You guys…” Darien continued, his voice breaking. “Don’t let this be for nothing, okay.”

  I nodded.

  It was all I could do.

  He breathed once more.

  Then… nothing.

  His body went limp in Rafe’s arms—far too light for someone who should still be there.

  No pretty words.

  No heroic promises.

  Just three survivors staring at what remained of a dream that would never be fulfilled.

  As we walked away, something lodged itself in my chest.

  The late realization that, in this world, surviving meant carrying names that would never reach the end of the story.