He was face-to-face with a beast that looked like a mutation from a nightmare. It was roughly the size of a mountain lion, but its head was elongated, and its eyes—unblinking and milky white—lacked pupils. Its skin was mottled, appearing more like old leather than fur, and long, jagged spines protruded from its spine. It hissed, its jaw splitting open to reveal multiple rows of needle-thin teeth.
"A pig-panther?" Arkan whispered, blood trickling from his shoulder. "That... shouldn't exist."
The creature lunged again. This time, Arkan was ready. He didn't move away; he moved in. As the beast’s jaws went for his throat, he slid under its leading shoulder, driving the ceramic knife upward. The blade didn't go deep—the hide was like kevlar—tucked into the soft flesh under the chin.
The crea
