The grass rustled, and Maverick halted abruptly.
He crouched down, pushing aside the leaves. A small figure lay curled in the shadows of the undergrowth. Her clothes were torn, her hair tangled like wild weeds. She was barely more than a frail leaf blown by the wind, buried in dirt and tangled grass, trembling but unmoving.
Her wide, terrified eyes locked onto his, more like a cornered animal than a child—pure fear, not hostility. Her lips parted, but only a faint, mosquito-like whimper escaped, as if her voice had been frozen inside her throat.
Maverick was about to step closer when he noticed the wound on her neck—a clean, precise cut, the flesh peeled back. This wasn't a tear or a scratch. It was surgical—processed. A skinner's mark.
His brow furrowed, an uneasy chill creeping through his chest.
Just as he reached out to pull the girl up, someone yanked him back.
Dr. Chan's face was pale, his voice low."Don't touch her."
"She's hurt too badly," Maverick frowned."She'll die."
"Can't you see the scar on her neck?" Chan's voice shook."That's not just an injury. It's... a mark. Those skinner's signature. You know what that means, right? This isn't from an animal. This was methodical—mechanical."
"Let me check," Maverick murmured, gently trying to lift her.
The moment she moved, a sharp, gut-wrenching scream tore through the air. Short, but powerful enough to make the leaves around them tremble.
Maverick froze.
His gaze dropped, and his expression twisted.
A rusty steel trap clamped around the girl's ankle, its jagged teeth sunk deep into her flesh. Blood seeped down, pooling darkly in the dirt. Bone—pale, horrifyingly exposed—gleamed beneath.
But what disturbed him most was that her leg wasn't broken.
The trap didn't shatter her limb. Instead, it clung tightly, as if it had grown into her bones.
Its iron clamps were nearly as thick as her shin, tightening the more she struggled. Any normal child would've had their leg snapped in an instant. But somehow, her bones held—unbroken, even as the jagged metal embedded itself deeper.
"You think she's normal?" Chan growled under his breath."Her bones didn't break. Have you ever seen a seven-year-old survive this kind of trap?"
He glared at Maverick, his teeth clenched."If she's just a regular kid, I'll eat my research manual live on camera. You're no hero—quit playing savior."
Maverick said nothing, his gaze cold as frost.
He knelt down, pulling a folding knife from his pack. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from the sheer pressure of keeping her from suffering any more pain.
"Hold on," he whispered.
The trap's rusted mechanism was stiff, but he pried at the latch carefully. The girl shook violently, teeth chattering, blood dripping onto the grass like red raindrops.
"Don't be afraid," he murmured, voice barely audible, like he was calming a wounded animal.
"Can you still walk?"
Tears slid down her dirt-streaked face. She opened her mouth, rasping weakly, struggling for words.
Finally, after several agonizing seconds, she managed a plea.
"My... my brother... is still ahead…"
Her voice was barely a whisper, but the desperation in it was unmistakable."Please… save him…"
"You want to go after someone else?!" Chan's voice shot up, raw with frustration."Have you thought for one second about—who set this trap?!"
Maverick stiffened, looking down.
The steel trap's teeth were rusted but locked tight. Recently reset. It wasn't a typical hunter's tool. And it wasn't meant for animals.
His eyes darkened.
"This isn't a natural pitfall," he muttered."This structure… was made for skinners."
Chan's face hardened."Then we should stay the hell away! Did you forget how those mercenaries died last week? These traps aren't'rescues.' They're'hunts.'"
"There might still be hunters nearby." Maverick scanned the fog-draped forest. The mist swirled, shifting like ghostly hands.
He clenched his jaw, lowering his voice."If her brother is trapped too, we're his only chance."
Before Chan could argue, Maverick had already lifted the girl into his arms. Gentle, but firm.
"Take me to him," he said, locking eyes with her."Now."
"You're insane…" Chan muttered, his voice like gravel."You realize this is suicide?"
Maverick didn't answer. He tore a strip from his shirt, moving swiftly—clumsily—but with determined care. He wrapped the cloth around her wound, pressing it down to slow the bleeding. His touch was rough, but there was an undeniable steadiness to it.
The girl trembled, raising one weak finger toward the deeper fog.
"That way… he's there…"
No further words. Maverick simply nodded, tightening his hold on her before stepping forward—straight into the mist.
He didn't look back.
Chan stood frozen, watching his silhouette fade, his fists clenched, breath uneven.
"Damn hero complex…" he muttered. Yet he didn't move.
One second. Two. Three.
He took a step—then stopped.
His expression twisted, torn between impulse and reason. Teeth grinding, eyes shut tight, like someone standing at the edge of a cliff.
Finally, he exhaled sharply."To hell with it."
And then he turned.
Not forward—away.
Within moments, his figure was swallowed by the fog.
——
The mist surged around them, icy like living water, slipping into their lungs, suffocating.
Maverick forced himself to stay steady, covering his mouth and nose with torn fabric. He ripped off another strip, handing it to the trembling girl.
She was ice-cold in his arms, her body too light, too frail. He held her closer.
The world around them had warped—nothing but gray, stretching shadows twisting in the fog, trees elongating, distorting, consuming one another.
"Up ahead… just there…" Her whisper was barely audible.
Maverick followed her guidance, stepping carefully, pressing forward. They moved past smoke-veiled trees, until at last—a towering ancient tree stood before them.
Its roots curled around a dark opening, half-hidden by tangled vines.
In the distance, faint lights flickered.
Cold. Mechanical.
Void of warmth.