Abnormal Type Moon

Chapter 1: Encounter in the Snow

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The icy cold wind slashed across my face, as sharp as a knife, causing excruciating pain.

Before my eyes, the world was pitch black, the night sky hanging high on the horizon. There was neither a trace of the moon nor the faintest twinkle of stars. Dark clouds blanketed the sky, allowing not even a single ray of light to penetrate.

The biting cold wind roared as fiercely as a waterfall, carrying large flakes of snow.

Everything within sight was cloaked in silver. It had been snowing heavily for who knows how many days, burying the earth under a thick, unbroken layer of white. The dark soil slumbered beneath the snow's oppressive weight, as though even the earth itself was unable to rise.

"Hoo… Hoo…"

On the endless snowfield, a frail figure staggered through the snow.

He wore only a thin white linen robe, without a single extra layer of warmth. His body was gaunt, his movements unsteady. He trudged through the snow, each step slow and uneven, his hands clutching his shoulders for what little warmth they could provide. The biting wind and relentless snow made him shiver uncontrollably.

The figure was so fragile, it seemed as if he might crumble at any moment, and one couldn't help but wonder how he was still alive.

Behind him stretched an endless expanse of snowfield.

Ahead of him lay nothing but the fierce wind and a blinding blizzard with no end in sight.

No one knew why he was there, in the heart of the heavy snow, far from any sign of civilization, without a companion, and clad in such inadequate clothing. He was alone, moving forward into the merciless blizzard.

The boy's steps were labored and unsteady, each one an immense struggle.

His breathing was heavy, his mouth expelling large gulps of frigid air. The cold air rushed into his lungs, each breath forming a white mist that quickly froze. The cycle of hot exhalations and icy inhales jarred his senses, keeping him barely conscious.

He couldn't recall how long he had been walking through the snowy wasteland.

He only knew that he hadn't stopped since stepping into the snowfield that evening. By now, it was likely the dead of night—or perhaps early morning—and the temperature had plummeted to freezing.

The thin white robe fluttered in the brutal wind, clinging to his pale, sickly skin.

He rubbed his arms incessantly, desperately seeking warmth, but his face had turned ashen, his body temperature plummeting to a numb, unresponsive level. He could scarcely feel the cold anymore. Even opening his eyes was a struggle. Strangely, a faint warmth seemed to rise from deep within his bones, an ominous sign.

If he continued like this, he would undoubtedly die, but he had no other choice.

He had trudged through the snow for hours without encountering a single village or town—no people, no animals, not even birds in the sky.

All that greeted his eyes were dry branches and the occasional scattered bones, stark and white against the snow.

It was as if he were the last person left in the world, and a crushing loneliness took root in his heart.

There was no sign of life anywhere.

When he fully grasped this reality, a profound sense of powerlessness welled up within him.

There was no point in struggling anymore. No reason to keep going. Perhaps it would be easier to simply let go, to freeze to death amidst the ice and snow.

Humans naturally gravitate toward the path of least resistance. In this case, no one would blame him. Everyone would understand. After all, there was no one left to witness his fall.

"Ha ha..."

He trudged through the snow, his breathing growing heavier with each step, leaving footprints behind.

Wherever his feet touched the ground, they left streaks of blood.

He had no shoes, not even a scrap of cloth to cover his feet. His skin was exposed to the biting wind, enduring the sharp snowflakes that felt like knife blades. The flesh on his feet had long been frozen and cracked, warm blood seeping from the wounds, staining the snow with a sorrowful, crimson hue.

It was a miracle he had managed to hold on this long in such a storm.

Stopping now would have been the easiest choice.

If he stopped, he would no longer have to endure the pain. He would finally be free.

But his steps continued, slow and unsteady, yet resolute, carving a faint trail into the earth.

Though he moved slower with every passing moment, weaker and more exhausted, and though his consciousness grew hazier, his feet never stopped.

No one knew where he was headed.

Just as no one could understand why he was so stubborn.

"Roar!"

Suddenly, the air vibrated with an intense, almost otherworldly force, accompanied by a low roar that seemed like an illusion.

He froze, his eyes widening slightly, and a primal sense of danger jolted him into momentary clarity.

In the endless snowfield ahead, a dark, demonic shadow had appeared, as if from nowhere.

It was a beast.

No, it wasn't merely a wild animal. Its appearance was wolf-like, but its mouth was filled with grotesque, zombie-like fangs. It was larger than a lion, its muscular frame clearly defined. Its eyes gleamed with a menacing red light, radiating a bloodthirsty hunger. Its powerful hooves dug into the ground, and its crouched posture exuded the predatory aggression of a hunter.

It was nothing like a normal beast—its entire being exuded a demonic presence.

A monster.

It was devoid of reason, driven only by chaotic instincts of cruelty and bloodlust.

A wave of intense danger surged through his mind, snapping his muddled thoughts into sharp focus. He instinctively tried to assume a defensive stance, but his frail, exhausted body refused to obey.

His teeth clenched tightly.

Was this the end?

Was it over before anything had even begun?

The monster, driven mad with hunger, locked its scarlet gaze on his frail figure. Sensing his desperate struggle, it let out a guttural roar, dug its hooves into the ground, and charged toward him with terrifying speed.

In an instant, it closed the distance, moving faster than human reflexes could track, leaving him no time to react.

He could see the glint of savage delight in its crimson eyes, a predator relishing its prey.

He wanted to evade, but it was too late. All he could do was stare at the monster's ferocious fangs as they came closer and closer.

"Buzz——!"

Suddenly, a dazzling light filled his vision.

It was an overwhelming, radiant brilliance, as though the long-lost sun had descended from the heavens, dominating his entire view.

When the light faded, the monster's fangs were gone. All that remained was half of its mutilated body lying in the snow, dark, demonic blood pooling around it and soaking into the icy ground.

"Is that you?"

In his dazed state, a figure slowly came into focus.

A woman, as striking as a blood-red rose, with flowing crimson hair that danced in the wind, stepped into his sight. Her gaze was sharp, commanding, as she looked down at the frail boy with an air of authority.

But the boy was beyond responding.

Now that death had passed him by, his battered body finally gave in, and his consciousness plunged into complete darkness.