Time passed slowly for victor.
A lot of it.
Victor didn't know how long. Could've been hours. Days. A lifetime. He honestly didn't care anymore.
He had stopped thinking. Stopped feeling. There was only the chase. The rabbit. And the cold.
His legs felt like jelly, his arms like dead weight, and his stomach hadn't just stopped growling—it gave up entirely. But somehow, he kept moving.
At one point, he thought he heard a faint ding inside his mind, like the system trying to tell him something, but he ignored it. Didn't have the room to care. Every bit of him was laser-focused on the damn rabbit.
The hare. That icy little demon.
He didn't even realize how much the frost had started to cling to his arms and legs, tiny specks of white forming patterns on his skin. Or how his breath came out in sharp, misty
clouds. He was too far gone.
He studied the rabbit now like it was a puzzle that needed solving. He had its movements down to a science—its patterns, the way it always faked left before sprinting right, how
it slipped when it hit the slicker parts of the floor.
He'd tried using the tools around the room—nets, poles, even a shield—but his body just wasn't there yet.It was too frail. Everything felt like it weighed a ton.
Still, he learned.
He adapted.
Now, for the first time since this twisted exercise began, the hare was showing signs of fatigue. It wasn't bolting like it used to. The gaps between its bursts were longer. Its jumps a little lower.
Victor's eyes locked on it.
He was breathing hard, but quiet. Focused.
'It's slowing down', he thought.
It was getting tired too.
He backed it into a corner, slowly tightening the noose. His steps were small, measured. He didn't want to startle it.
Then came the move he was waiting for.
'It's going left', Victor thought, shifting his weight that way. 'Off the wall, then right...'
Just like he'd predicted, the hare made a break for the right using a wall as leverage.
Victor spun, already moving.
And this time—he caught it.
He threw his whole weight on the hare, slamming it to the ground. It squirmed under him. Its spikes tore into his arms, cutting deep, but he didn't let go.
No. You're mine.
It kicked. Twisted. Bucked.
Victor wrapped his arms around its neck, pressing all his weight down. The cold bit into him, the spikes dug into his skin, but he gritted his teeth and held on.
'It's going to escape!'.
The thought hit him like a flash of lightning, and something seemed to snap.
Victor bit the rabbit.
Yes, actually bit it.
His teeth sank into its fur and skin, and the hare let out a high-pitched, desperate scream—
"RRREEEEEIIIIIIIIIII!!!"
The shriek echoed across the training hall like glass shattering in his ears.
He didn't stop.
He didn't let go.
His mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood, fur and ice.
And none of it mattered.
Because the only thing that mattered was that he didn't lose.
He kept pressing, harder and harder. His vision swam, his arms ached, his skin burned from the wounds. But he held.
Then, suddenly, he heard a click.
The door.
But he didn't look.
He didn't move.
"...It's dead."
It was Jeffrey's voice. Calm. Unbothered.
Victor froze.
The hare went still.
He slowly loosened his grip, breath coming in uneven gasps. His hands were shaking. He let the rabbit fall from his grasp and sat back on his knees.
Everything hurt.
He turned.
Jeffrey stood at the entrance, looking down at him.
The man's brows were slightly raised in surprise and... interest.
He took in the blood, the scratches, the teeth marks, the ragged breathing—and Victor's eyes.
Victor's eyes looked half-crazed.
Like the eyes of a beast. No a predator that had just caught its prey
And maybe he was.
Because when their eyes met, Jeffrey didn't look down on him.
He looked... impressed.
Like a master watching a mutt learn how to bite.
He reached into his pouch and tossed something at Victor.
A loaf of warm bread. And a hot chunk of roasted meat.
Victor didn't even wait.
He dove for the food like a man possessed, stuffing it into his mouth, chewing like it was the last meal he'd ever have. The flavors exploded across his tongue—juicy, rich, comforting.
It was heaven.
His eyes watered.
It was so good he could cry.
Jeffrey chuckled. "I'll hav the Frostspike Hare sent to the cooks. You earned it."
Victor barely registered the words. He just kept eating, tearing into the bread and meat like a beast.
Then he paused.
His hands were covered in blood. The hare's blood. Some of it still sticky, drying under his fingernails.
He stared at it.
He should feel something.
But there was... nothing.
No, that wasn't right.
There was something.
Pride.
Joy.
A twisted sense of satisfaction.
He'd killed a magical creature with his bare hands. Bit it. Held it down. Watched it die.
And he was proud of that.
His empathic sense flickered on instinctively. He scanned himself.
Nothing negative. Just... bliss. A quiet sort of triumph.
"I should be disgusted," he murmured.
But he wasn't.
He looked at the corpse again.
Then he thought about his parents.
What would they think if they saw him like this?
"They'd be shocked," he said
with a small smile.
A pause.
"Oh well."
He didn't care. They'd always seemed robotic. Just like every other human he'd met in his past life.
He tore another bite from the meat.
Soon, he was done eating.
A guard came to fetch him, grunting and pointing without saying a word. He was led to a small stone room.
Inside was a wooden bucket of lukewarm water.
No soap. No towel.
Victor stripped off his shirt and splashed water over his arms. The cuts stung. His muscles screamed. But he scrubbed until most of the blood was gone.
Then he got dressed.
Back to the cell.
Caelum was doing pushups when he returned.
Victor said nothing.
He was too tired.
He climbed to the top bunk like he was on autopilot. Every muscle in his body protested. Every joint ached.
He didn't care.
He lay there, staring up at the stone ceiling.
And for the first time since he arrived in this world, he felt like he'd taken a step.
A real one.
'Is this my life now?' he thought.
He finally had a goal.
And for once, he looked forward to it.